#killian vanserra

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part VII

Word count: 4400+

Warnings: mentions of blood and suffocation

Autumn themed divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part VI | Part VIII

Eris kept his promise. At first, he met with you just once or twice a week, but lately it had been happening more and more often. That old library full of books and lacquered wood was your most frequented meet place. It took you some time, but eventually you learnt how to get there on your own and didn't need anyone's help.

Most recently, though your husband started to prefer meetings in his free time. He began showing up for meals in the chambers or invited you to secluded gazebo in the garden. Sometimes he even managed to take a break for hour or two and replacing your maids, now your best friends, he escorted you to the gardens, showing you secret paths. He knew this place as the back of his hand and you wondered how the heir could have so much time to explore it so well. It was so easy to forget about the fact that he had centuries to do so, his young appearance seemingly giving him maximally 9 years over you.

Time was passing in a slow flow of peaceful days when nobody expected you to submit, to stay still, to not think, speak or feel. Nobody bound you with ridiculous rules and you felt happier than ever. The memories of the nineteen years of your life were impossible to forget and you often wondered whether this life was just a fantasy of your tortured mind. Whether they finally broke you beyond the repair. It was strange that in this huge castle, you had ever met only Eris, his brother and advisor Killian, Ellen and Irene and several servants and guards. Were you the only ones living here? Where were the others?

These thoughts occupied your mind so much that you completely forgot about your upcoming birthday.

Back in Hewn City your birthday was a day as any other. Nobody celebrated it. You never got presents. You knew when you were born only thanks to your mother who every year secretly whispered you happy birthday. Your father most likely didn't remember it at all, so you strongly doubted that he could share such information with your husband or his court. You've never been asked about it, too. Thus you didn't expect anything to happen.

How surprised you were when Irene came to your chambers one afternoon with a bright smile, followed by servants who carefully brought in tailor's figurine in dress and set it down.

The doors closed behind the last servant and you could finally take a proper look. It was the most beautiful dress you had ever seen, worth of a queen.

Your eyes lingered on the bodice of bronze colour with sweetheart neckline that was held on place by ribbons with bows of the same colour. It looked like an polished armour thanks to the top layer of shiny chiffon and the crest of Autumn Court embroidered in its centre. If it wasn't for a gauzy floating sleeves falling from the shoulders, it would be too eccentric for you to dare to even wear it.

The bodice naturally flowed into a skirt composed of feather shaped strips of a dark silk and an embroidered chiffon in muted colours of autumn. The skirt pooled on the floor around the base of figurine, creating a train. The slit in the front part of it was reaching up to the half of thighs, undoubtedly supposed to reveal the legs with every step.

Irene took out the shoes she brought in a box. Simple lacquered black high heels were decorated with delicate bronze leaves and flowers that connected into complicated ornament of bronze wires in the front.

You had to sit down, short for a breath. You'd never seen anything like this in Hewn City. Your High Lady, her sisters and Morrigan usually wore impressive dresses, but this.. This was the masterpiece.

"Why.. What is this dress for?" you stuttered unable to take your eyes off of it.

Irene smiled sheepishly. "High Lord had it all made for you for tonight."

"For tonight?" You fished in your memory, but Eris hadn't mention anything to you despite of meeting him only a few hours ago.

"Yes, there's going to be a banquette. But let's get you ready. We have a lot to do."

"Wait. Where's Ellen?" You hadn't seen her since you returned from a walk.

"Oh, don't worry. She should be here anytime soon."

Irene helped you with bath and while your hair was drying she worked on your face. She chose palette of eye shadows that matched the dress, creating intrigued but for you maybe too heavy makeup. Ever since you left Hewn City you used only bare minimum and very light natural makeup. When Irene was applying a dark red rouge on your lips, doors opened and Ellen walked in with covered satin pillow. She was beaming.

"I'm so glad that you haven't started without me," she said as she left the pillow on the bed. "I already thought that I won't make it in time."

From the minimal reaction to the dress it was clear that she, as well as Irene, had already seen it before and so she wasn't surprised at all.

"I can't wait to see you in that magnificent dress. I tell you, our High Lord has a good eye."

Irene fixed last details of your face and they both helped you into the dress. But before you could look in a mirror, they ushered you back to the vanity.

"Don't be impatient and let us finish your look. You will love it," they reassured you and started to braid your thick hair into a complicated hairstyle. Of course, they didn't forget to cover the mirror so you couldn't see what they were doing. At last Ellen took the thing that she brought on the satin pillow and they put it on your head. It was round and a bit heavier than a headdresses you used to wear to balls under the mountain.

"We are done," they announced proudly with tears lining their eyes. They helped you to stand up and then took few steps back to take a better look of you.

"Y/N, you are so beautiful," they sobbed in unison. "Our High Lady."

"But I'm no High Lady," you objected in embarrassment.

"You are. Look!"

They moved the tall mirror, so you finally could take a look at yourself. The breath caught in your throat and you staggered. A powerful High Lady was staring back at you with slightly opened blood red lips. The dress perfectly hugged your body, accentuating your curves. And as if it wasn't enough, on top of your head sat a real gold crown of twisted twigs decorated with maple leaves made of opals and rubies. You looked as a totally different person, despite the fact that in your heart you were still that powerless, scared female.

You stood there staring at yourself until another knock sounded on the doors. Irene rushed to answer.

"You look so good, my Lord," you heard her say.

"If I knew that an angel will greet me here, I would wear something more fancy," you heard Killian's flirty response. "Is our fairy princess ready?"

"She is and she is fabulous. Even you will be short for words once you see her." She fully opened the doors and let him in. Killian affectionately pinched her cheek as he passed her and then he tripped, his mouth hanging open as his eyes roamed over you.

"What.." He gazed at you, speechless.

"If this doesn't break him.." he muttered under his breath. Then he cleared his throat.

"I'm here to escort you, my dear sister. Instead of Eris who will be a bit late, unfortunately. Can you give us a moment?" He turned to the smiling maids who bowed to him and left.

Killian returned back to you with serious expression, giving you a sorrowful look.

"Now listen carefully, doll. I have to warn you. Our court.. it's quite brutal kind of place like your home," he grimaced. "That's one of the reasons why Eris has changed several things here before your arrival and now keeps a whole wing of castle only for family. We, and I mean me and Eris, have to behave in certain way to be able to keep these people under control. Our beloved father made sure that they are all just as wicked bastards as he was. A single slip and we could be seen as weak, incompetent and easy to replace. We don't have resources to stop a revolution right now as Eris just took over the place. Once we have reins firmly in our hands and certain changes we are working on, are made, everything will be different and we can be who we are wherever we want. But for now, bear with us, will you?"

You blinked in confusion. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"What I meant is that we will be a bit different than our usual selves, brutish and rude if I should be honest. You probably already noticed it at your wedding. Eris had to hold back a lot that night."

You remembered the cold, contemptuous frown he wore while watching the dancers and the small cracks when you glimpsed his true self underneath it. If you learnt something about him this last few weeks, it was that he wasn't that kind of person in real. That he was in fact the opposite of all the rumours you'd ever heard about him. You slowly nodded.

"Tonight won't be ideal. Just think about it as about a masquerade. Nevertheless, I hope you'll enjoy it. It's your night after all and I prepared something special to make it more bearable. Let's go." He took your hand, heading for the doors.

"Wait!" You pulled back, stopping him. "My night? What do you mean?"

"You'll see," fox like grin spread on his face, amber eyes shone with mischief. "Oh, and one more thing. I guess I don't need to tell you this as you'll probably fall back to your old ways anyway, but be careful when someone approaches you. Not everyone who seems to be friendly, is our friend in real."

If all the strange stuff he told you before didn't seriously scare you then this last warning did.

Killian led you down the staircases and hallways, until you stopped before great double doors which you immediately recognised. It was the same ball room where your wedding party was held.

"Time to once again meet the elite of your subjects, your Grace," Killian winked at you and in an instant his brand smirk was gone replaced by that cold demeanour and bored expression he had when you met him for the first time.

He unhooked your hand from his arm and sharply opened the doors.

"Welcome her Grace, consort of High Lord of Autumn Court," his deep voice called into the room and everyone immediately fell silent.

You inhaled shakily. He didn't give you much time to prepare, but the lessons that were beaten into you, were good at least for something. You straightened your shoulders, holding your head up and the gaze down, and walked in.

A wave of surprised 'ah' and 'oh' ran through the gathered crowd and they all bowed down like one man. With the same bored expression Killian offered you a hand and with the other one behind his back, he gallantly led you to the steps and a table with three chairs, the middle one bigger and higher than the other two.

He was showing you off, making a spectacle of you and the dress. You felt like a trophy. As far as you knew, Lady of Autumn never wore crowns, only smaller tiaras. They were sending out some kind of message, but you weren't experienced in such political matters to understand it better. The number of glares you felt on you pierced your skin like blades, making you even more nervous and feel sick.

He held one of the smaller chairs for you and then taking the other one, clapped his hands. Everyone took their seats and servants started to bring in food.

In the chaos you got a chance to look around. The ballroom was huge, a show of opulence with its white and golden walls and high vaulted ceiling. It was decorated with garlands of autumn leaves of mainly red colours that contrasted with all that gold, hanging between massive chandeliers with fae lights. In the vases next to each marble pillar around the perimeter of the room were big bouquets of flowers in yellow and red colours. The last rays of the setting sun penetrated through the rows of windows that led to the terrace and bathed the room in a golden glow. It was breathtaking.

Each of the tables was also decorated with smaller arrangements of flowers combined with leaves. It perfectly matched the gold goblets, cutlery and trays. However, in the arrangement before your plate you noticed small pink nerine inconspicuously stuck among the flowers so that no one else could see it. Out of the corner of your eye you looked at Killian. He nodded inconspicuously and corners of his mouth slightly twitched. Eris.

As if you called his name aloud, the doors opened and he walked in.

Eris was freshly shaved, once again shorter red hair combed back. With high black boots, ash colour breeches and tunic in the same bronze colour as your bodice, he looked like High Lord through and through. The fact was emphasized even by a massive gold crown of entwined twigs with maple leaves made of opals and rubies, a pair to the crown on your head.

The breath caught in your throat as he was heading your way. The power radiated from him with every step, swirling and seeping through his skin. Everyone in the room immediately stood up and bowed and you did so, too, with a little delay. It was a bit of shock to see the frown on his face that in any other situation would already have been replaced by a kind smile. He was again wearing the mask of cruelty that you remembered from your home. However, when he came closer you noticed the warm embers in his eyes as they traveled down your body and then back up.

He took your hand to place a kiss on back of it, eyes never leaving yours.

"You're stunning," he whispered into your skin so only you heard him.

Still holding your hand he gestured to others to sit down.

"Welcome!" His deep, sonorous voice bounced off the walls. "Today we gathered here to celebrate the 20th birthdays of my wife. May you have a long life and soon endow this court with number of heirs."

You stiffened. While others took theirs goblets and toasted to you with all kinds of expressions that you didn't want to even try to decipher, you just stood there unable to move. Killian had warned you, but those words hurt nonetheless. It reminded you of the only purpose you were supposed to live for and overshadowed even the fact that he knew when you were born and decided to celebrate it.

Heirs. You were expected to give birth to heirs like some breeding mare while you hadn't even been deflowered yet. It was like a bucket of cold water, the worst of the worst mockery.

Eris sat down and you stiffly followed him. While you were trying to push the tears back and catch a breath, servants served food on your plate. You again lost all your appetite.

Your husband next to you hesitantly reached for your hand under the table.

"Can we talk later?" he muttered. You just nodded, gazing in front of you. He squeezed your hand, running thumb over the knuckles in a calming way and sent a wave of warmth into your body. "Please, now eat."

You did as you were told, but you couldn't manage more than a few bites. With whole your being you concentrated on the small pink nerine.

It's just mask. Don't take it seriously.

No matter how many times you repeated those words in your mind, it still hurt. After the meal was over a party had begun. At first it wasn't any different from your wedding. The guests gathered on the parquet while small orchestra played in the corner.

Suddenly different kind of music played, carried on the wind from outside. It was a wild melody full of booming drums. Everyone stilled, heads turning to the gardens, there was a tension in the air. All the windows to the terrace opened at once and the smell of bonfires filled your nose. As if it was a signal, the room exploded with laughs and everyone was heading out in a crazy maze of bodies. The etiquette-obsessed nobles turned into wild magical creatures right before your eyes.

Eris turned to his brother with raised brow. "I don't remember mentioning bonfires." The anger in his voice cause a shiver ran down your spine.

"She's twenty only once," Killian shrugged, unaffected.

Eris shook his head in disbelief. "As if she shouldn't see it every year at the equinox."

Killian rolled his eyes. "This way it at least will be some fun. Let's go out," Killian laughed and he was actually hopping on the way out. It was really comical to see such outgrown male doing so. If it was a different kind of situation, you would have laughed until you couldn't more.

Eris watched his back, frowning. "I'm sorry. This isn't what I wanted, not that I-," he sighed in disappointment, running his hand over face. His lips pressed into a thin line. "And I'm also sorry for what I said for a toast. That isn't what I really-.."

"It's fine," you stopped him. You didn't want to hear that anyway. All you wanted at the moment was to go out so you didn't have to be alone with him. And that's what you did. "Are we going?"

"Sure," he caught up with you in a few long steps and offering you a hand, he led you to the terrace. His steps faltered before you got to the windows. "No. Wait. I can't leave it like this."

He took your chin between his index finger and thumb, making you to look up into his amber eyes that burned like fires. The lights in the room dimmed until you stood there in almost complete darkness and the only light was coming from outside.

"I want to make things clear right now. I don't want you to be angry with me for wrong reasons. I asked Killian to prepare you for this, but I should have known better and do it myself in the morning when I had chance. Fuck all surprises." He swallowed hard, his gaze boring into you, pleading you to understand. Your lower lip quivered. He was still angry. "Except of the long life part I didn't mean it. All I really wish for is your happiness. I don't.." He exhaled shakily, composing himself.

"Maybe you've already noticed it, but you aren't a prisoner here nor I expect from you anything you don't want to give me. This all.. I wanted for you something that you could fully enjoy, but there are certain expectations that I have to fulfill currently. We can't leave right away," he gestured to the gardens and the guests scattered there, "but there's going to be another birthday celebration for you after this. The real one. The sincere one, even though not so pompous as this all. Just the two of us. And maybe Kill, if he won't be too drunken. I promise."

You listened to his words which he spoke with such urgency in voice, something really atypical for him. As he was talking, the tears gathered in your eyes.

"I understand. I really do. Killian told me that I shouldn't take it seriously. I'm so sorry for my behaviour."

"You have any right for that." His thumb wiped away a tear before it could roll down your face and destroy Irene's hard work. Hand lingering on your cheek, his eyes fell to your lips and then returned back to your eyes, asking for permission. A small nod was all he needed to slowly lean down. His soft lips brushed over yours, his breath fanned over your face. When you didn't back out, he claimed your lips in a tender kiss, lazily moving. Tip of his tongue pressed between your lips, looking for a way in. Before you could grant him entry, his chest vibrated with a low growl and he broke the kiss, resting forehead on your shoulder.

"Mother help me," he whispered out of breath. "You are so beautiful today, a goddess."

You shook your head, trying to calm down your racing heart. "I heard that you ordered this dress for me."

"I wanted them all to see their powerful High Lady, to fall on their knees in front of you," he snorted, "but your beauty exceeded my expectations. You have me in your grip, my Lady. At least for tonight, do whatever you want with me. I'll gladly accept it all."

You gasped in surprise and blushed, but he only grinned mischievously, took your hand and led you out. "This is the real Autumn Court," he waved his hand, showing you the bonfires on a meadow behind the flower garden.

The flames were shooting high into the sky, the wine was flowing in streams and all the lords and ladies had turned into a wild creatures, laughing and dancing around. Nobody cared about the status or manners.

In distance you saw Killian with feral grin dancing with some girl near the bonfire, their bodies swirled around each other and it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended. It felt as if you were witnessing something inappropriate and had the urge to turn away, but you couldn't take your eyes off of them.

"Come," Eris's deep voice growled near your ear and your toes curled at its undertone promising you the same level of wildness and intimacy that those two had. He pulled on your hand, amber eyes burning, same wolfish smile on his lips.

The rhythm of drums pulsed through your veins and you got carried away by it. Eris led you through the rippling crowd to the closest bonfire and without warning pulled you to his body.

It was pure madness.

Without knowing the steps, led only by those drums and instincts, you swirled around each other, bodies pressed together so firmly there was no space in between you. His warm hands were at your face, shoulders, waist, hips, everywhere, caressing and squeezing until you were sure there would be marks left on your skin. Everything and everyone around you blurred into a mass of colours, only his face with those fiery eyes was clear. The fire was licking your skin, burning your body from inside out and you didn't mind it the slightest because you were the flame yourself.

You changed dancing partners several times, but you couldn't remember their faces even if you tried. At some point you danced even with Killian who with wide grin nuzzled to your neck in a very inappropriate way, but you both only laughed at it.

You danced and danced until you couldn't anymore and stumbling you went looking for something to quench thirst. Some female pressed a goblet with an amber liquid in it into your hand and you drank a few gulps without questioning it.

Tired and overheated you headed into an empty garden, letting the cool breeze to caress your hot cheeks. You groaned in relief.

"Here you are. I've been looking for you," strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you to a broad chest. Heat radiated from his body as Eris nuzzled to your neck, placing hot kisses under your ear. "Tired?"

You hummed in answer, leaning into his touch. You both were still too high to care about the level of your intimacy.

"The evening isn't over yet," he whispered with his lips sliding down the column of your neck, his fingers lurking just inches from your breasts. He sounded out of breath. "I promised you to properly celebrate your birthday. Come."

He took your hand and led you away from the bonfires and music, to a secluded balcony overlooking the east gardens. Except of the small table there was nothing.

Your head was pounding, your sight blurred out and again refocused. You blamed all the dancing for it and took another gulp from the goblet. You still couldn't catch your breath.

Eris waved hand and on the small table appeared a beautiful cake and a small box tied with pink bow. With a snap of fingers he lit the candles and not only on the cake. There were dozens of them on the floor and the railings.

"Happy birthday, Y/N" he smiled softly. "Wish for something."

You wanted to return the smile, but couldn't. Your airways suddenly closed and you began to choke and cough violently, fighting for air.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Eris immediately sobered and reached for you alarmed, his brows knitted together.

With another coughing fit, your mouth filled with something warm and sticky. The blood. Eris's eyes widened and he draw you to his chest. He snatched the goblet from your clenched fingers and sniffed it.

"No," he snarled and the goblet turned into an ash on his palm. He scooped you up in his arms, running through hallways with you. "Y/N, stay with me. Do you hear me? Look at me!"

You tried to focus on his face, really tried but he was nothing but blur. You desperately gasped for air, your consciousness gradually slipping away.

"What's going on?" You could hear Killian's voice in the distance.

"Bring healer! Immediately!" Eris barked the orders. "Bring her to her room! No one must know about this!"

Eris kicked some doors open and then again and laid you down on soft bed. His warm hand pressed to your cold cheek.

"Y/N, stay with me. Fight it! Please.."

You heard some commotion and voices, but after a while everything went silent except of buzzing in your ears. Gasping for air, you focused on his amber eyes. You wanted to take the memory with you wherever you would go from here as the darkness slowly swallowed you.

[wishfulimaginings]

Vanserra brothers in a modern AU for @erisweekofficial day 1 : Bonds

7 year old Lucien runs into his elder brother's room , very distressed ," Eris,Eris!! Killian said I was adopted! "

Eris, looks up from his schoolwork , furrowing his brows as he registers his brother's panic. "Don't be stupid , he doesn't know anything." Lucien opens his mouth to say something but Eris continues, "We got you from Target at half price, little Lucien."

Lucien runs out of the room wailing ,"Mommmmmmmmmyyyy!" at the same time as LoA yells from somewhere in the house , "ERISSS!!!!!"

[cauldronblssd]

Ch 21 - Found in the Sunlight

Elain has dinner with the Vanserras.

Read on AO3

Thank you so much to @witch-and-her-witcher for beta-ing this chapter for me!

Tag List: @climbthemountain2020 @clockwork-ashes

Excerpt:

Elain sucked in a breath, a cold shiver traveling down her spine as she took in the room. The Lady of Autumn stood next to Beron, her ruby red dress draping elegantly over her tall and lithe frame. On one side of her stood Beron, his crown regally placed across his head, despite only his family and familiar courtiers in attendance, and on the other side stood Eris. She eyed the place settings and the people standing before her, a twist forming in her gut.   

She knew that the place next to Beron was intended for Lucien, but in a streak of boldness, she walked in front of him, taking the seat next to the High Lord with a curtsy and a deep bow of her head. To her chagrin, he looked pleased.   

Waiting for her cue, Elain brushed out her skirts in front of her as she took her seat.    

The food, unlike the company, was divine. The rich scent of butter and rosemary wafted towards her, each dish rich and flavorful, from a pumpkin stew to perfectly seasoned vegetables. The fish on her plate stared back at her, to her great discomfort. But it too, had been cooked artfully, with a hint of fresh lemon that made her think of her mate. Candles flickered softly along the table, illuminating the face of each of the Vanserras. Truly, they looked lovely here, the shimmering lights highlighting the rich shades of red in their hair and their angular features.    

Eris looked especially regal, bedecked in gold jewelry and lazy in silks and rich fabrics. His hands moved with liquid elegance as he picked at his food. The grace that he contained in each lift of his fork would have made the mothers of the human lands weep with jealousy. Lucien hardly touched his food at all, concern and fury roaring down the bond between them.   

She offered a soothing touch down the bond, like tracing her finger along his cheek, as she turned to listen to Beron drone on to Killian about some complaint regarding a noble in one of the rural territories. He liked to hear himself talk, more than anything. It was a bunch of self-important nonsense in her estimation. It amounted to nothing.    

The lady across from her hardly touched her food at all, her hands drifting back and forth across her plate or fiddling with her water glass. Her eyes, though, when they looked towards Elain were warm and affectionate. She couldn’t let herself bask in that affection, not yet – not until both of their futures were secured.   

Would she leave them, for Helion and the Day Court?   

Selfishly, Elain hoped not. She wanted some time to see what having a family might be like before she was left adrift on her own in this cold and cruel place.   

The cold metal of the knife radiated against her thigh though she tried her best to ignore it. She felt as if its presence might betray her somehow, alert the guards or Beron himself of her ill intentions. Sweet Elain, lady of the Night Court and gardener to the High Lord, carrying a weapon and a plan. Her best defense was her pretty face, and she used it to her advantage, smiling placatingly when Beron unfortunately turned his diatribe towards her.    

It seemed, he decided, that she should be educated in the failures of the other High Lords, both past and present - the Night Court’s especially. She nodded with interest, humming her agreement as appropriate without committing to saying anything at all. A great man such as Beron Vanserra didn’t expect anything from her, anyway, besides her submission. She would have listened, not happily but certainly readily, to him drone on for the remainder of dinner had he not turned his commentary towards her and Lucien’s mating ceremony and bond. That the ceremony took place in the Night Court was apparently of great offense, despite the fact that Lucien had not even been welcome in Autumn at the time.   

When he suggested that Feyre could not truly be High Lady of the Night Court, Elain gritted her teeth painfully, pinching her hands together under the table as she smiled dolefully. Males. He was no different than Lord Nolan, or any number of males in the human lands. He was so certain that no female could ever truly hold power, could never be a threat to their unchecked dominance.    

She began to daydream, attempting to pass the time, thinking of what flowers would bloom in an autumnal climate. Some marigolds perhaps, or aster. Something with color would be necessary, certainly, to brighten up the sinister appearance of the grounds and house, if one could call it that. It was one phrase that brought her back to the present.    

“You’re much prettier, I suppose, than the lesser fae bitch Lucien liked so well.” He smirked, letting his teeth bare as he locked eyes with him.   

She felt the pain, hot as lava, searing molten down the bond. It was too much.   

The anger boiled over and she looked at Beron, the petulant bully that he was, and without thinking, reached below her dress to unsheathe her knife. Beron still had a look of smug satisfaction on his face, letting the verbal blow land, when Elain stood from her seat, and quick and quietly from the shadows, leapt forward and stabbed her beautiful, jeweled knife, right through Beron’s throat.    

Terrible sounds followed, loud and liquid and squelching.  

No one seemed surprised or distressed at the sudden change to their peaceful, if sullen, meal. One of the courtiers continued to sip lazily from a goblet while the brothers watched with keen yet unhurried interest.    

Beron gasped a final ragged breath as the blood poured from his body. It fell onto her hands, the iron rich smell nauseating her instantly. It was too much like before, too much blood, too much noise, and it overwhelmed her senses.   

She heard the rustle and shouting of guards behind her, seeming to realize they had failed in their one duty. Like Beron, they had never looked to Elain as a predator, seeing her only as pretty prey.    

Before they rushed to her, they seemed to realize what the brothers had already concluded. It was too late, the life had left Beron in mere moments, and soon the powers of the high lord would land at the feet of one of the brothers. Lucien turned feral beside her, baring his teeth in threat to anyone who dared approach her. The mating bond only amplified the change to his magic already taking root. Flame licked down his arms, white incandescent heat radiating off of him.    

Eris stepped forward, pulling a sword from the wall, long metal sharp and gleaming, and sliced through Beron’s neck, severing his head from his body. He hadn’t warned her, and the spray hit her further, splattering against her face and into her mouth, causing her to gag. He offered her an apologetic smile before placing the severed head with a thump on the floor next to the body. Revulsion and dread swallowed her like the icy depths of the cauldron. She had done this.   

Elain felt like her very soul rejected all of the blood dripping from her hands, staining the lovely velvets and silks of her dress. It had coated the linens on the table and touched the food. Ruined, all the kitchen staff’s work was ruined. She felt her knees begin to buckle, and a gentle hand reached for her arm. Long, slender fingers encircled her wrist bringing her to stand upright, a soothing voice etched with concern.   

At last, Elain met the eyes of Lucien’s mother, Riona, no longer the Lady of Autumn.   

[separatist-apologist]

Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3

Elain was brought to Nesta, standing in a little alcove that offered them the illusion of privacy. Nesta looked exhausted, eyes ringed with dark circles and her face paler than Elain remembered. She watched Elain approach, nostrils flaring and lips thinning.

“I don’t know which of you is worse,” Nesta hissed when Elain reached her. “Tell me the rumors aren’t true.”

Elain should have known Nesta hadn’t come to hug. “What rumors?”

There were so many possibilities, and Elain didn’t dare to admit to anything. Nesta narrowed her eyes, but said, “You killed a High Lord?”

“That was Eris Vanserra,” Elain said automatically, just like Cadmus had instructed. Nesta looked like living flame just then, like she might combust entirely. “I was only in the room.”

“That’s not what Killian has said. He’s frantic.”

“Why?” Elain genuinely could not fathom what would have Killian so worked up. If Eris wanted to hold Elain accountable, surely he would have called in the troops by now. 

“Because you assisted in killing a High Lord,” Nesta hissed, speaking slow as though Elain were simple. “Why aren’t you more concerned?”

“Because Eris Vanserra isn’t going to share any of the credit,” Elain replied snappishly. “And this is just another attempt on Killian’s end to drag me home. I’m not going.”

Nesta stared at her for a moment, blue eyes unreadable. “Feyre said the same thing,” she mused, more to herself than to Elain. “No one wants to return.”

“Why are you here, Nesta?”

“Because the rumors circling you are concerning. Shacking up with a Day Court Prince—” Nesta’s nostrils flared again, lip curling in triumph when she realized that must be true.

“Assassinating High Lords. Three of them are dead in the span of a day, and our family is at the center of all three. Not to mention Hybern is in Spring—”

“What?” Elain breathed, trying to recall if Lucien had told her that.

Nesta’s amusement died again. “Tamlin is a fool. His father had some bargain with their king—one that was broken when he died, and should have remained broken. But Tamlin…Tamlin invited their general in anyway, and has been giving them tours of the wall.”

“Why would he do that?” Elain demanded, heart frantic in her chest. There were defenseless humans on the other side of that wall. Not to mention, her family was centralized in Spring, left to the whims of Hybern. Maybe her father would be fine, but would everyone else? Nesta waited for Elain to have the same realization she must have had. 

“Because he truly believes Rhysand has kidnapped Feyre and is holding her mind, and nothing short of a thousand years married to her will convince him otherwise. Lucien Vanserra’s assertion that she was not spelled and quite herself didn’t matter. Tamlin is willing to sacrifice everything to get her back.”

“So what do we do?” Elain asked, stepping a little closer. “I could talk to the High Lord—”

“We need to go home,” Nesta said, reaching for Elain’s shoulders. “All three of us. We need to go back, and I can’t convince Feyre this is the right thing.”

Elain blinked. “You want me to…”

“To talk to her? Yes. I want you to tell her that Tamlin isn’t listening to reason. He needed to see her, hear it from her own lips.”

“And what then? What if he doesn’t?” Elain demanded, pulling from Nesta’s grip. “What if you’re right and he won’t believe her unless she marries him. Are you asking me to convince Feyre or that, too?”

“No. There will be no convincing her, not when—” Nesta pressed her lips together tightly, arms crossed over her chest. “If Tamlin can’t be convinced, there is still one brother who could rule. Killian has some sense, at least. He hates Amarantha.”

“You don’t need me for that,” Elain murmured.

“You’re the only one who has seen a High Lord die,” Nesta disagreed, eyes pleading. “And I can’t do this by myself. I don’t want to go back either, Elain. We have to. Spring has been our home and the thought of letting it fall…I…”

Elain knew if she told Lucien this plan, he’d intervene. He’d come up with a hundred reasons for her to wait, or for him to accompany her. She thought of her promise—she wanted to make things permanent between them. 

“How much time do I have?”

“I’d like to leave right now,” Nesta said gently, as if she guessed Elain’s thoughts. “It’s not forever. That mate of yours will survive a week without you.”

Elain didn’t bother asking how Nesta knew. Of course she did. She must have scented it the moment Elain walked into the room. 

“A week?” Elain questioned, sliding the ring on her finger in circles. Nesta nodded her head, though Elain thought it was smart not to make any promises. A week could become a month, or even a year if they weren’t careful. 

“What happens if Feyre says no?”

“Then we go back and you can explain to me exactly how you ended up in a room with the High Lord as his son murdered him.”

Nesta’s eyes glittered with promise—she knew Elain was lying. Elain didn’t bother to correct her, even as she thought the plan was awful. Beron had been seduced by a younger, prettier female and put in a compromising position. Elain very much doubted she or Nesta could tempt Tamlin into the same.

He likely would have heard the details, besides. The only person who was going to ever get close enough to Tamlin was Feyre. And if Feyre was smart, she wouldn’t agree to go back. She’d say no and stay safe in Night with the new High Lord and whatever friends she’d made. 

“Did mother write to you?” Elain asked, thinking of her things dumped wordlessly into Lucien’s bedroom. What kind of welcome was waiting for her at home?

“She did,” Nesta said, her voice laced with pity. “She is…unhappy, but not unswayable.”

“She’ll never approve of him,” Elain insisted, her voice thin and reedy. 

“It’s not her life,” Nesta said fiercely. “She made her choices with father, and you get to make yours, too. What male wants another male’s mate, besides? Killian thinks he will but the scent coming off you makes my hair stand on edge. Mother had a life planned for us all, and we’ve wrecked it.”

“Sorry about Atticus,” Elain murmured. Nesta had always been slated to marry him just as soon as she finished her studies.

Nesta smiled—a genuine thing that made her far more beautiful than she already was. “Why? The High Lord of Night did me a favor. Atticus, too, if we’re honest. I don’t think he ever wanted me as a wife, either.” 

“If we’re going to leave, we should go now,” Elain murmured, looking behind her sister toward the window and the rising sun. Lucien would eat breakfast and meet with his father before coming to look for her again. 

He’d understand, she reasoned. Lucien wouldn’t like the deception, but he’d understand. And he’d be careful, too. Rationalizing that if things went so wrong, Elain could take refuge in nearby Autumn, she reached for Nesta’s hand and began leading her through the palace. Her home. 

I’ll be back, I’ll be back, she chanted in her head. Careful to keep her heart rate steady so she wouldn’t alert Lucien that anything was amiss, Elain managed to get Nesta through the palace without much notice. Courtiers and scholars still fluttered through the halls, glancing her way before returning to their conversations. She was nothing interesting anymore—a princess, so commonplace most of them just barely inclined their heads. 

Later, when Lucien was looking for her, this moment would be cited. He’d know she left intentionally, that she avoided him to keep him from convincing her to stay. It would take no effort on his part—Elain didn’t want to be parted from him. Not today, not ever. Her vision still loomed heavy in her mind. Was she walking straight into it? Or had she derailed just enough that Lucien would honor their marriage vows, deception or not?

Elain simply had to trust that whatever Lucien swore he felt, he meant. That it would take more than one small act of defiance—one made to try and save her home from utter ruination—to sour his feelings for her. Lucien had said he would want her, bond or not.

And though it was so deeply unfair to make him prove it, there was no other choice. Elain stepped into the humidity and the bright light, tilting her head against the warmth while Nesta hissed in disgust. Elain closed her eyes against the cold wind of Nesta’s winnow, wishing that when she opened her eyes, she’d be back in bed with Lucien.

That she’d find this had all been a dream. 

Elain opened her eyes to a city made of moonstone and marble. If Day was burning sunlight, this place was glittering starlight. Elain had never given much thought to the Night Court, and never truly considered what it might look like. This, though, with its shining, clean streets and neat buildings lined up in elegant rows, was beautiful. 

There was no screaming, no pleading or rivers of blood. There was even sunlight, hazy up above and far colder than Elain was used to. She wished she’d grabbed a cloak on her way out. Nesta smiled for a moment, unbidden and bright before she caught herself and replaced that smile with a scowl. A male was striding toward them. He was handsome with his thick, dark hair that fell in waves around truly massive shoulders. Elain didn’t think she’d ever seen someone as broad and muscular as this person. Tattoos crawled up his neck, vanishing dark leathers conforming to his powerful body. Red gems glinted in the light, flaring with what Elain suspected to be excitement when he saw her sister. 

His massive wings, once tucked tightly against his back, flared out for a moment. “Hey, Nes. She came.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nesta snapped as Elain turned to look at her elder sister. Nes? 

“I’m Cassian,” the large, impossibly tall male told her as he extended a hand. “Elain?”

“Elain,” she agreed with a broad smile. “How do you two know each other?”

“We don’t,” Nesta insisted as Cassian, still holding her hand, replied, “I’ve been training her.”

Training her in what? Judging from the flush staining Nesta’s cheeks, it wasn’t just a sword. There would be time to untease all that later—maybe when Elain had Feyre to herself and they could giggle like they were children again, far out of Nesta’s earshot. 

“We’re here to see Feyre,” Nesta interrupted, spine impossibly straight. Cassian’s grin merely widened, as though he were used to these sort of displays and enjoyed them immensely. 

“Lucky for you, she’s at the town house with Rhys. I’ll walk you to her.”

“There’s no need—”

“Oh, I insist,” Cassian interrupted smoothly. “It’s my job to welcome your sister into our court.”

“Well. Welcome her, then,” Nesta snapped. Cassian’s grin was just as sharp, just as lethal as Elain’s eldest sister. Had Nesta met her match here? 

Cassian turned to Elain, sweeping into a half bow. “Welcome to the Night Court, Elain Archeron.”

LUCIEN:

“You wanted to see me?”

Lucien’s father turned from his place in front of the window, his study in disarray. “I did. Elain is with her sister for the day, and I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

Anything to pass the time, he thought to himself. Lucien was unreasonably excited that when he returned to his bedchamber later, Elain would be waiting with food. She was going to accept the bond and they’d have a private celebration. No one could take her from him, then. No matter where they went, no matter how they were separated, she would always belong wholly to him.

Lucien needed something else to think about while he waited or he’d be too tempted to track her down. 

“Of course.”

“I need you to meet with your brother.”

Lucien looked up at the ceiling, sighing heavily. “What has Eris done this time?”

“Nothing,” said Helion, turning to face his son. “That’s the problem. War is on the horizon and Eris has all but closed his borders. I thought we could count on him…but…”

But Eris was self-serving above all else. And if he felt the risk was too great to himself personally, he’d stay out. Just like his cowardly father. Lucien was trying so hard not to hate his half brothers, especially after what they’d done for Elain. He owed them for that—Eris and Cadmus could have locked Elain up and held a trial, could have used what she’d done as an excuse to march into Spring or Day, depending on their mood. 

And instead Cadmus had brought her home while Eris gleefully announced to the world that he’d killed his father and then pardoned himself for crimes of treason, all while sitting with a Day Court courtier on his lap. Presumably. Lucien couldn’t picture Eris putting Arina on his lap—that’s just what he would have done if he’d killed Beron and had his mate with him.

Eris probably had Arina stand at the foot of his throne in one of those dresses that buttoned to her neck, penciling in when they ought to have sex based on some ridiculous calendar of her courses so he was certain to get his precious heir. 

“I’ll go. I want to see Arina, anyway.” That was true. Lucien wanted to offer her an out if she’d changed her mind. He knew how overwhelming the mating bond could be and how heady an experience it was. Surely the fog would be clearing, her senses returning. Assuming she hadn’t done anything stupid—like accept the bond and married his brother—Arina could still come home. 

Even if she hadn’t, Lucien might try and smuggle her out anyway. He could always lie and say she’d run away. His parents would kill him for it, but Lucien thought it would be quite fun to steal Eris’s wife right from under his nose just as his father had done to Eris’s father. 

“Take your time,” Helion instructed, unaware that Lucien was itching to get back to Elain. Or maybe he did, given his eyes slid to the mating band on Lucien’s hand. “Keep that from your mother. You’ll break her heart.”

“She’ll get her big celebration,” Lucien promised, though he ducked his hand behind his back all the same. Disappointing his mother was one of the worst things he could imagine. “This was just for us.”

A soft smile slid across his father’s face. “I know the feeling well. Keep it to yourself.”

Lucien nodded, making his way back into the palace. He did go checking after Elain, unable to help himself. He wanted to tell her he was leaving without her, and that it had nothing to do with her abilities or skills. A servant informed him she’d taken her sister into the city and Lucien thought it was best not to bother them given how sad she’d been about her mother and father’s rejection. Maybe Nesta Archeron could smooth things over for Elain’s family so by the time he visited, everyone was on better terms.

Lucien dressed himself, unable to take his eyes off the still rumpled bed in the center of the room. Elain’s trunks were still scattered about, half opened with clothes spilling out. He knew when he arrived, all her things would be neatly stored, the trunks put away. Maybe, having spoken to Nesta, Elain would feel better about where she’d left things with her parents, too.

Assuming, of course, Nesta hadn’t come to drag Elain back home. Lucien wasn’t willing to entertain that possibility, twisting the mating band around his hand nervously. She was his wife—he could go into Spring and bring her back, kicking and screaming if he had to.

And Lucien suspected he would. If Elain went home under some misguided belief she needed to do right by her family, Lucien would flex his muscles as heir of the Day Court, bring that signed scroll with Elain’s uncoerced signature on it, and put her right back in his bed.

Shaking his head, Lucien shoved the thought out of his mind. Elain wouldn’t—she’d wanted to get married, and she wanted to accept the bond. She wasn’t going home, barring some unforeseen disaster. She was safe in the city, likely showing her sister all the best parts of Rhodes. He’d meet them for dinner if he was home in time and hopefully charm the eldest Archeron into loving both his home and himself, and then have Elain moaning beneath him before the night was through. 

It was too hot to have a jacket buttoned to his neck. Lucien opted for a hunter green tunic with a white shirt beneath. Lucien used gold sleeve garters right above his elbows in lieu of his usual armband, and picked out his nicest pair of trousers and a gleaming pair of boots. That ought to satisfy Eris and his ridiculous court would be looking for anything to pick apart—Lucien didn’t intend to let them find it in his appearance.

Still, for the moment he stood outside, the outfit was unbearably hot. Itchy, too. Lucien winnowed quickly before sweat could cling to his skin and make a mockery of him, landing on crunchy leaves just outside the Forest House. 

Beron is dead, he reminded himself. It did little for his crawling anxiety, especially when the guards surrounding the palace watched him, arrows pointed straight at him as he walked to the entrance. 

The smell of cinnamon and wet soil slammed into his senses, far stronger than it had ever been outdoors. Lucien frowned, already missing home. A guard was waiting in a crisp red and white uniform, beckoning for Lucien to follow after him. The palace seemed thinner than Lucien remembered—fewer courtiers meandering the winding halls, watching for something to gossip about later.

Absently, Lucien wondered if Eris hadn’t culled them. It was possible they’d also fled for another court, though Lucien wouldn’t fathom who would want Autumn’s set living within their walls. 

Familiar golden doors were thrust open when Lucien approached, though there was no Beron Vanserra sneering at him as he entered. No open insults, no hateful eyes. Only Eris, casually positioned in that wooden chair made of twisting branches. Arina was propped on his knee, crowned in a burnished laurel leaves and draped in a pretty, burgundy dress that cut far lower than anything Lucien had ever seen on an Autumn Court female. Rubies adorned her throat, a match for the pretty ring on her finger.

She shot upward the moment she saw him, gathering her skirts as she jogged the four steps to the wood floors. Lucien kept his eyes on his brother, waiting for that flash of anger his father would have given.

Eris merely seemed amused. Indulgent, even. Lucien didn’t know what to make of that.

Arina flung her arms around his neck, and Lucien, still testing her brother, hugged her back with a little too much intimacy. He caught Eris’s expression shift to irritation, lip curling over his teeth before he smothered it.

“Where is Elain?” Arina demanded, pushing back just enough to peer around him.

“Busy, unfortunately,” Lucien replied, scanning his friend for any tell-tale signs of bruises or other harm. “How are you?”

He expected Eris to jump in, furious at the insinuation. True, his brother stiffened on the throne, gripping the arms so tightly Lucien heard the wood creak beneath his grip. But he kept silent so Arina, bubbly and vivacious as ever, could say, “I’m fine. Don’t look at me like that—Eris could only dream of getting one good hit in.”

“I don’t dream of that,” Eris said, his first words since Lucien had arrived. “I am content to let my wife speak for me.”

Arina rolled her eyes with affection, looking over her shoulder as Eris stood. 

“He had to make such a show of it. Did you know he’s High Lord?” she teased as Eris rolled his neck before slowly making his way toward them. “He reminds us all no less than ten times a day.”

An affectionate smile spread across his brother's face, so at odds with the male Lucien was accustomed to seeing. What had Arina done to him? It was impossible to consider that Eris may have always been this way.

“Brother,” Eris said by way of greeting, sliding one arm possessively around Arina’s waist. Was Lucien also that obnoxious? Arina reeked of Eris’s scent, the bond between them nearly overpowering. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, a warning not to get too close unless he wanted his throat ripped out.

But Eris was keeping it together, given Lucien had just been rubbing his hand up and down Arina’s spine. 

“Have you come to ensure I’m not mistreating my mate?”

“Among other things,” Lucien replied, not bothering to deny it. 

Eris exhaled. “Spend as much time with her as you like.”

Lucien didn’t think he could stand to, though it certainly put some of his fears to rest. If Eris had things to hide, he surely wouldn’t hand her up on a silver platter. Not when the mating bond was still riding him so hard, at any rate. “It’s tempting. A sleepover, like old times?”

Lucien relished the growl that slipped past Eris’s throat. It was too easy to rile him up now. Arina poked Eris in the ribs, leashing Eris before he could do or say something that might start an incident between Autumn and Day.

“Why are you really here, brother?’

“You know why,” Lucien retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “This potential war. Father wants to know where you stand.”

Arina looked up at Eris, eyes wide. “War?” she asked. 

“How poorly you inform her,” Lucien sneered, earning a smack in the chest from Arina.

“Knock it off,” she warned, looking between the pair of them. “What war?”

“Maybe war,” Eris interrupted, pushing the words through his teeth. “As far as I can tell, Tamlin is merely giving Amarantha a tour of his home.”

“Of his borders,” Lucien clarified. “Why would she possibly need to know that? And ships are pouring in from Hybern in the dozens. I doubt it’s all goods for trade.”

“What do you want, then? A promise I’ll march with Helion if Amarantha decides to invade?”

“Yes,” Lucien replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Eris held Lucien’s gaze. “Fine. I’ll agree—on one condition.”

Gritting his teeth, Lucien replied, “What is it that you want?”

“For you to stay two nights. Here. With your brothers,” Eris clarified, perhaps guessing Lucien would merely waste his time hanging out with Arina. “Otherwise tell Helion he can get fucked.”

“Are you serious?” Lucien seethed, well aware his father would not be so forgiving if he returned home without securing this alliance all because he wanted to sleep beside his wife. Eris must have guessed, eyes sliding to the band on Lucien’s hand. 

“It’s time to put the past behind us,” Eris said, slinging his arm around Arina’s neck. She beamed, clearly loving this plan and wholly unaware of what a bastard her mate was. 

“Oh, Lucien, you should. Things are so different—you’d love it. Invite Elain to spend some time here, too.”

“I’m sure Cadmus would love to see her,” Eris added. Lucien swallowed the urge to beat Eris to death with his fists.

“Fine,” he gritted out. He’d write Elain and explain himself. “Two days, and you agree to support Day if Spring lets Amarantha use their territory as a base.”

Something dark flickered over Eris’s face. “And Day will agree to house any refugees from my court should she come over our borders.”

Lucien would need to talk to Winter, too, but it was reasonable enough. Extending his hand, he nodded.

“Deal.”

[letthefairyinyoufly]

Questionnaire for book lovers

Tag me!

I'm bored and curios.

Goodreads account?: Favorite genre(s): Favorite book(s): Favorite book series: Favorite classic(s): Favorite Author(s): Favorite quote(s): Favorite adaptation(s) to screen: Favorite character(s): Favorite villain(s): Favorite ship(s): Book boyfriend(s) or girlfriend(s): Book(s) that made you cry: Physical book, eBook or audiobook: Currently reading: Last 5 star read: Book(s) that you wish were more popular: Your old favorites: Your most anticipated book: Favorite audiobook narrator(s): Unpopular opinion:

You can add more questions!

Book recommendations are welcomed.

Tag some fellow book lovers :

my answers ⬇️

Goodreads account?: Yes

Favorite genre(s): Dark Romance, Fantasy Romance, Contemporary Romance

Favorite book(s): A Court of Mist and Fury, Anne of Green Gables, Twisted Games by Ana Huang

Favorite book series: ACOTAR, Anne of Green Gables Series, Millennium series

Favorite classic(s): The Great Gatsby, The Last of the Mohicans (one word UNCAS)

Favorite Author(s): Stieg Larsson, Sarah J. Maas, Anne Rice

Favorite quote(s): “If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?” —Lucien Vanserra (ACOTAR)

“It’s easier to bear when you let someone in, let them help you through the grief. So next time, you come to me. For everything, you can come to me. If you’re hurting, I want to hurt. If you’re angry, I’ll rage with you. If you’re happy, I’m euphoric. If you’re so beyond broken that you can’t sort through the rubble, then come to me, baby, so I can piece you back together myself. Hit me, yell at me, kiss me, fuck me, whatever you need to do, my body is yours for the taking.” —Creed (Lethal Truths)

Favorite adaptation(s) to screen: Pride & Prejudice (2005), Sharp Objects HBO, Anne of Green Gables (1985)

Favorite character(s): Lucien Vanserra from ACOTAR, Anne Shirley, Camille Preaker from Sharp Objects (show version is my most beloved fictional character, I think liked book version almost as much???), Creed from Blackwood University Series, Jim Holden from The Expanse, Lisbeth Salander from Millennium series

Favorite villain(s)/antihero(es): Arobynn Hamel from Thorne of Glass, Lestat de Lioncourt from Interview with the Vampire, Creed from Blackwood University Series, Killian Carson from God of Malice

Book boyfriend(s) or girlfriend(s): Creed from Blackwood University Series (I'm in love with him), Atlas Corrigan from It Ends with Us, Rhys Larsen from Twisted Games, Rhysand from ACOTAR, Lucien Vanserra (hopefully he will get his mate)

Favorite ship(s): Feyre/Rhysand from ACOTAR, Bridget/Rhys from Twisted Games, Anne/Gilbert from Anne of Green Gables Series, Elide/Lorcan from TOG, Holden/Naomi from The Expanse

Book(s) that made you cry: The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, Leviathan Falls by James S.A. Corey

Physical book, eBook or audiobook: Ebook and audiobook (GraphicAudio)

Currently reading: Kingdom of Ash, You Can't Kiss the Nanny, Brady Banks (Audiobook, narration is so good, I wish more books had dialogue between two narrators)

Last 5 star read: Lethal Truths by Sybil Reese

Book(s) that you wish were more popular: Blackwood University Series by Sybil Reese (it's a Dark Romance and Reverse Harem so yeah😞), I wanna gush over Creed with somebody. He should be sole lead, then maybe book had more readers. It's weird when you have character who is cuddlier version of Zade Meadows and you try shoe horn him into harem when he is obvious choice. Technically he is her main hubby and others are more like sidepieces, hopefully it stays this way. And 2nd book is way better.

You old favorites: Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick (I still love it)

Your most anticipated book: God of Fury by Rina Kent and ACOTAR

Favorite audiobook narrator(s): Aiden Young

Unpopular opinion: I think Chaol is the most rational and relatable character from TOG and I side eye his haters. I have so many unpopular opinions about TOG that I sometimes wish that I have never started reading it.

sorry : @jupiter-86, @dangermousie, @acourtofthought

[thechaosmuses]

Below the cut is a list of all my canon characters, from every fandom, organized by such. I figured I would go ahead and put this up, as well as an oc muse one, for my oc and canon starters so that way it's easier for y'all to see who is included without going to every separate muse list.

The Vampire Diaries

Freya Celeste Mikaelson Elijah Daniel Mikaelson Niklaus Ryder Mikaelson Kolton Nathaniel Mikaelson Henrik Alexander Mikaelson Hope Andrea Mikaelson Malachai Silas Parker Olivia Mae Parker Silas Xavier Salvatore Damon Luca Salvatore Stefan Lance Salvatore Jeremiah Steven Gilbert Katherine Maria Pierce Qetsiyah Zione Bennett Bonnie Sheila Bennett Marcel Leon Gerard Hayley Jane Marshall Elizabeth Anne Forbes Josette Olivia Saltzman Ryan Nicholas Clarke Landon Maxwell Kirby Aurora Violet De Martel Aiden Matthew Lawrence Tyler James Lockwood Alexia Rae Branson Sebastian Killian Jones Milton Gabriel Greasley Benjamin James Kenson Lorenzo James St. John Vincent Keith Griffith Sean Kieran O'Connell Lucien Maverick Castle TEST MUSES Dorian Lee Williams Sophie Danielle Deveraux Monique Marie Deveraux Evangeline Amaya Sinclair Inadu Tayen Labonair Rafael Alexander Waithe Finch Taylor Tarrayo Cleo Ada Sowande Penelope Eden Park Jade Ivy Young

Containment

Jake Holden Riley Katie Selene Frank Jana Christine Mayfield Teresa Violet Keaton

Teen Wolf

Mieczyslaw Noah Stilinski Scott Gregorio McCall Christopher Henry Argent Allison Artemis Argent Lydia Sophia Martin Jackson William Whittemore Derek Samuel Hale Cora Avery Hale Camden Matthew Lahey Isaac Michael Lahey Vernon Dallas Boyd Danny Keahu Mahealani Malia Elizabeth Tate Kira Jade Yukimura Theodore Christian Raeken Jordan Tyler Parrish Aiden Jacob Steiner Mason Cade Hewitt Brett Lee Talbot Garrett Cole Williams Nolan Andrew Holloway Bobby Adam Finstock Marin Sophia Morrell Braeden Valerie Bardot Deucalion Damien Hemming

Supernatural

Dean Michael Winchester Castiel James Novak Claire Grace Novak Jack Kellan Kline Gadreel Dustin Ward Rowena Jane MacLeod Fergus Roderick MacLeod Belphegor

DC Comics

Bartholomew Henry Allen Nora Francine West-Allen Bart Joseph West-Allen Sara Caitlin Lance Dionysus Arbios Kara Aileen Danvers Winslow Jordan Schott Jr. Clark Joseph Kent Mon-El Lar Gand Querl Dox Music Meister Harleen Frances Quinzel Pamela Lillian Isley

Marvel

Joaquin Miguel Torres Peter Django Maximoff Pietro Django Maximoff Wanda Marya Maximoff James Buchanan Barnes (pre-serum and super soldier) Steven Grant Rogers (pre-serum and super soldier) Michelle Julia Jones-Watson Peter Benjamin Parker Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy Peter Benjamin Parker Jonathan Spencer Storm Kate Bishop Natalia Alianovna Romanova Yelena Fyodorovna Belova Brunnhilde Valkyrie Loki Laufeyson Stephanie Grace Rogers (genderbent steve) Jamie Belladonna Barnes (genderbent bucky) Samantha Trinity Wilson (genderbent sam) Theodosia Audra Odinsdottir (genderbent thor) Lady Loki Laufeyson (genderbent loki)

Stranger Things

Jonathan Ross Byers Nancy Diana Wheeler Steven Michael Harrington Robin Rae Buckley Edward Joseph Munson Argyle Eduardo Diaz Jane Eleanor Hopper Dustin Jace Henderson Lucas Charles Sinclair Maxine Elizabeth Mayfield

Misc

Nicholas Sean Miller Winston Saint-Marie Schmidt Reagan Marie Lucas Leonardo Winston Hamato Michelangelo Chandler Hamato Samuel Nicholas Drake King Benjamin Florian

9-1-1

Athena Grant Howard Han Henrietta Wilson Maddison Juliet Buckley Evan Jones Buckley Edmundo Anthony Diaz

Book Babes

Major Jay Kitahara Lieutenant Lorelai Cathwell Sergeant Major Alary Johann Corporal Erik Mendel Devin Nesta Archeron Elain Archeron Feyre Archeron Rhysand Darling Azriel Cassian Amren Morrigan Gwyneth Berdara Eris Sargon Vanserra Lucien Vanserra Helion Luciano Meridian Tamlin Avri Desrosiers Thesan Addae Koitla Viviane Anera Agnarrson

[acourtcfmuses]

❔

MULTIMUSE ASK MEME send ❔ and i’ll list a couple muses that i’d like to throw at yours!

Your muse first and in bold! (I've only went for main verse muses atm, plenty of crossover available!)

Undercut because extensive!

Nesta Archeron - Cassian, Feyre, Azriel, Emerie, Gwyn, Helion

Morrigan - Azriel, Cassian, Emerie, Feyre, Helion, Jurian

Emerie - Gwyn, Elain, Cassian, Neusa (OC)

Lucien Vanserra - Elain, Jurian, Helion, Feyre, Azriel, Cassian

Azriel - Gwyn, Feyre, Cassian, Helion, Jurian

Elain Archeron - Feyre, Jurian, Emerie, Roux (OC), Oriane (OC)

Gwyneth Berdara - Azriel, Feyre, Cassian, Iara (OC)

Gil Legume - Harriet Jones Hook, Sammy Smee, Evie Grimhilde, Damian Jones (OC),

Evie Grimhilde - Mal Fae, Ben Ricard, Freddie Facilier, Matthias Gothel (OC), Anthony Tremaine,

Audrey Rose Reine - Fleur Faery (OC), Ben Ricard, Mal Fae, Evie Grimhilde, Piotr Potts (OC), Kris Bjorgman (OC), Diaval, Calder Nottingham (OC)

Ben Florian Au Roi - Mal Fae, Evie Grimhilde, Piotr Potts (OC), Olwen Malmoreal (OC),

Aimee White OC - Ben Ricard, Derek Bergmann (OCish?), Astrid Bjorgman (OC), Ruby Fitzherbert (OCish?), Castor Sanderson (OC)

Harry Potter - Hermione, Blaise, Lily (maybe in a time travel thread), Charlie Weasley

Ginny Weasley - Hermione, Blaise, Charlie Weasley

Ron Weasley - Hermione, Blaise, Charlie Weasley

Draco Malfoy - Hermione, Blaise

Pansy Parkinson - Hermione, Blaise

Lily Evans - Marlene, Peter

Bellatrix Lestrange - Lily, Marlene, Peter

Rodolphus Lestrange - Lily, Marlene, Peter

Prince Charming/David Nolan - Emma, Killian, Neal

Snow White/Mary Margaret Blanchard - Emma, Killian, Neal

Evil Queen/Regina Mills - Emma, KIllian, Neal

Baelfire/Neal Cassidy - Emma, Killian

Henry Mills - Emma, KIllian, Neal

Belle/Lacey French - KIllian

Lily Page - Emma

Annie Cresta - Finnick

Johanna Mason - Finnick

Peeta Mellark - Finnick

Stefan Salvatore - Caroline, Elijah, Rebekah, Klaus

Bonnie Bennett - Caroline, Elijah, Rebekah, Klaus

Liz Forbes - Caroline

Renesmee “Carlie” Cullen - Emmett, Carlisle

Bella Swan-Cullen - Emmett, Carlisle, Jacob

Edward Cullen - Emmett, Carlisle, Jacob

Emmett Cullen - Carlisle, Jacob

Rosalie Hale - Emmett, Carlisle, Jacob

Esme Cullen - Emmett, Carlisle, Jacob

[ncssian]

this is only a prompt if you decide it is BUT:::

AF au and it is lucien kissing elain in the midst of her mean girl rant and she’s all flushed with anger and furrowed brows and pointing fingers until her grabs her hands and kisses her and shes goes embarrassingly silly and wobbly kneed and loses her train of thought very fast but still cannot be bothered to be mad at him enough to stop kissing him and it is just so unfair and honestly a bit scary he gets to do things like that to her 🤪

i've been sitting on this ask for months and i got wayyyyy carried away this. a little NSFW

***

Their relationship begins the same way it will inevitably end: with a fight.

A fight that poor Lucien isn't aware is going to happen yet. Elain's silence is calculated as she stands before her bathroom vanity, removing pins from her golden brown hair one by one. Through the doorway, she can see Lucien taking in her tiny bedroom for the first time. Like he's afraid of disturbing a single dust particle in the room, he carefully lays his suit jacket at the foot of her bed.

Growing irritated at his lack of words, Elain decides to break the silence herself. “You just had to embarrass yourself and your family on that yacht, didn't you?"

Russet eyes flash to her in disbelief, Lucien looking surprised by the sudden topic of conversation. "Excuse me?" he says.

"The panting, desperate dog act is almost cute when it's just with me, but in public..." Elain drops the last bobby pin onto the sink counter and shakes her head in disappointment. Her hair flows around her shoulders with the movement.

“Are you…mad at me for trying to protect you back there?” he says, incredulous.

Elain is mad for a number of reasons, still simmering from what took place hours ago on that boat. All six of Lucien's brothers and his father had been there, and it was Elain's first time being with more than three Vanserras at once.

They were the most horrible people she's ever met—and that's coming from Elain, who grew up with a family too dysfunctional for words. As soon as they laid eyes on Lucien standing too close to Elain, leaning in and chatting too comfortably with her, they descended on her like a pack of wolves. Eris, her former crush and now absolute shithead, included.

"Now who, is, this?" Aldritch Vanserra approached Elain and Lucien mid-conversation, putting a stupid emphasis between each word like a villain in a cartoon movie.

Elain only raised her delicate brows at him in innocent puzzlement. "We've met before, Aldritch. I was at the end-of-summer party at your house, remember?"

At the blank look on the oldest Vanserra brother's face, she added, "I volunteer at the local women's shelter with your mom? She introduced us to each other?"

"He doesn't remember," Lucien snapped at her. "Let it go."

Like sharks catching a whiff of fresh blood, it wasn't long before the rest of Lucien's brothers joined their group one by one: Garrett, Lyon, Bastien, Killian, and finally Eris.

“Little Lucien’s finally found himself a girlfriend,” one of them drawled.

Another one, Killian, clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock disappointment. “You think this one will last?”

“I’d give it six weeks.” Eris. “She’s too pretty for him.”

“Not too pretty for me,” Bastien took a step closer to Elain, close enough to make her stiffen in discomfort. But Elain kept her unassuming face on, a little blank in the eyes and bland in the smile. After all, as her mother would say, when would she ever get the chance again to have this many men’s attention on her at once?

“A little too whorish, then,” Eris said. Elain’s mouth actually dropped at that, though she quickly snapped it shut. This was the same man she’d had a huge crush on just some weeks ago?

Eris had the nerve to actually offer Elain an excusatory look. “Not in a bad way, doll. It’s just that Lucien over here is something of a prude. It would never work out.”

Beside her, Lucien didn’t move or say anything.

“Again,” Bastien interrupted, and Elain could hear the tinge of alcohol in his words, “not too whorish for me.” Snickers went up all around the little circle of brown- and red-haired men, and for the first time all day Elain wanted to slink into her pashmina and never come out.

As for Lucien… Elain dared a glance over to him. His face remained uncomfortably blank, but his jaw worked as if he was gathering up the nerve to tell his shithead brothers off for good. Elain hadn’t expected Lucien to be so passive in the face of such clear insults toward him, toward her, but her heart softened as she realized—he was probably used to being outnumbered like this. It had never been said aloud, but anyone with eyes could see that Lucien was the black sheep of the family.

She would have to be his ally, then.

“How… comedic you boys are,” Elain said pleasantly. She slipped her hand around Lucien's, wanting to support and fortify him. They were a team, she wanted to say. But just as fast as she took his hand, Lucien dropped it and took a subtle step away from her. Shock and hurt wound through Elain as Lucien shrugged and told their audience, "What can I do if I'm the favorite brother for once?" His eyes lazily slid to Elain as he added, "Unfortunately for all of you shits, we're just friends. She's not my type."

He was too convincing. Too bored, too casual as he said it, and it was all the brothers needed to lose interest and back off. A new voice spoke up then and said, "Good."

Elain and Lucien both turned to find Beron Vanserra nursing a glass of whiskey, having been listening in to the conversation from the fringes. "No son of mine is going to be caught with trailer trash on his arm. Lucien's already learned his lesson about that, hasn't he?" His gaze went from threatening to charming as it moved from Lucien to Elain, and he smiled almost apologetically at her. "No offense, Miss Archeron. You've been a joy to have around these last few weeks." The gleam in his eye told her no matter how much time she spent hanging around the Vanserras, flaunting her newborn connections with Rhysand and the higherups at Night Court Inc., she would never be accepted as one of them. She would never have a chance at touching one of his precious sons.

Lucien tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at his father, one of the strands that'd fallen out of his ponytail sliding across his forehead. “Take that back,” he ordered, actually ordered his father.

Beron's face darkened as he eyed Lucien. "Excuse me?"

“Apologize to her. Now.”

Elain's heart leapt into her throat. "I'm alright," she tried to say, but trailed off when neither man turned to her. Lucien had the ember of a rage she'd never seen before in his eye, and it honestly frightened and thrilled her a little.

“I didn’t know she was yours to apologize to.” Beron lifted his chin at Lucien and looked down his nose at him with a disgust that Elain hadn't known fathers could have for their children. “Go on, son. Claim her if she’s yours.”

It was a challenge, a dare. Elain watched the whole exchange with bated breath, as she was sure several guests were also doing, wondering what Lucien's next move would be. But Lucien saw that dare and only took a slow step back, shaking his head in disdain. That ember in his eyes dimmed until it extinguished completely. Like none of it was worth it. Like she wasn’t worth it.

“Let’s go,” he said lowly to Elain, placing a hand at her back and steering them both toward the ramp leading off the boat. The party was clearly over for them, yet all Elain could feel as she left was his touch that remained distant and cold on her middle back.

Being called trash by a man she believed had liked her hurt. Being harrassed by Lucien's brothers hurt. But all of that would have been tolerable if Lucien hadn't let go of her hand. For all his promises, he was so quick to let go of her.

"Why would I be mad?” Elain lies as she takes out her earrings, carefully replacing the backings and placing them into her jewelry box.

"Well, I'm sure being called a whore and trash within minutes of each other couldn't have been fun," Lucien retorts, ever the genius.

“Oh, did you notice that too?” she chirps.

Lucien sighs through the bathroom doorway. “I warned you that a family event was the last place you’d want to be.”

“Your family isn’t the problem here.” Elain wraps her fingers around the sink edge in an attempt to appear calm, throwing a cool look over her shoulder toward Lucien. “The problem is you. It’s been you this whole time.”

Lucien goes carefully still at that. “What did I do now?” he says.

Elain’s facade crumbles at his ignorance, and the next thing she knows she’s storming into the bedroom and jabbing a finger at him in accusation and anger. “You have been nothing but a waste of my time since I first met you,” she hisses. “That’s what you did.”

“Don’t point your finger at me,” he threatens in a low voice.

"Oh, Elain, I love you, I'm gonna marry you, you're mine." She throws his words back in his face, laced with acid cruelty. His face burns with humiliation, a look that both satisfies Elain and enrages her further. She should be the humiliated one for how wrong she was about him. "Fucking liar," she spits, pointing again just to piss him off.

"Is that why you're upset?" Lucien takes a dangerous step closer to her. "You're upset I wouldn't lay a claim on you in front of my whole family?"

“I’m not upset.”

“You’re losing your Tennessee accent.”

“I’m NOT UPSET!”

Lucien chooses that moment to snatch both her hands out of the air and tug her mouth to his.

Everything pauses for half a second, Elain’s eyes blown wide with shock. And then she realizes that this is their first kiss, that Lucien’s lips are waiting for a response from hers, and she utterly melts. By the end of the half second, she’s standing on her tiptoes with her arms flung around his neck, kissing him back with a fervor that neither she nor Lucien expected.

Her three a.m. fantasy of the last few weeks becoming reality, all the ignored and neglected tension from the moment they met—Elain moans her relief into the kiss. How romantic, she thinks.

Lucien lets go of her hands to grip the sides of her face. “Listen here, dove,” he says into her mouth. “My family doesn’t get to fucking touch you. They don’t even get to fucking look at you.”

Elain’s stomach does a rollercoaster-worthy flip at the words, and flips again when Lucien finds the zipper at the back of her dress, pulling it down with one tug. The lilac fabric spills down her shoulders and chest, revealing her bare breasts and stomach. Another precise tug from Lucien and the whole thing drops to a heap at her feet, and then she’s being shoved against a wall with Lucien’s thigh pressed between her legs.

But just because they’re kissing doesn’t mean they’re done fighting. “They seemed to be looking at me pretty damn thoroughly today,” Elain rasps as Lucien’s hot mouth goes for the most sensitive skin at her neck.

Only half the buttons on Lucien's shirt are undone at this point, Elain not even remembering how they ended up that way, but she gets so frustrated with the lack of skin she has access to that she simply fists each side of his shirt and tears it open the rest of the way, ripping some buttons off as she goes. With newfound eagerness, she presses her naked chest to Lucien's and drags him into another dizzying kiss before he can respond to her.

Lucien breaks away too early, panting with his forehead pressed against Elain’s. “I'm sorry about today," he says roughly. "It was my fault—for being too close with you. I should have protected you better."

Elain furrows her brow, confused and yes, still hurt. “I didn't want you to protect me. I wanted you to stand by me."

He shakes his head quickly, and genuine fear laces his next words. "I don't want them to know. It never ends well when they know."

“It’s happened before?” Elain can’t believe they’re talking about this while their bare chests heave against each other, but jealousy at the thought of Lucien having someone before her sparks in her gut.

Lucien only shakes his head dismissively. “These aren’t people that you can play nice with, Elain. And you can’t play rough either.”

“Then how do you survive it?” she retorts.

“By pretending I don’t exist around them.” Like how he pretended not to care for her today.

Pity blooms in Elain’s heart at that, that he was conditioned to act this way after a lifetime of neglect. But she still disagrees with Lucien. He’s focusing on the wrong problem before him.

Taking his face in a much more gentle way than how they first started, she commands, “Lucien.” His name flows like honey off her tongue. “Stop worrying about your family and start worrying about me. I won’t do a secret relationship, and I can’t be abandoned in the lion’s den again like that. Can you do that for me?”

Of course, she's already got him hooked and baited. He would do anything for her, confirmed by how he closes his eyes and nods slowly, his nose rubbing against hers. “I can do that.”

Elain's stomach finally settles, and she smiles a sweet, reassuring smile. "Good," she whispers, and gently brings his mouth down for another kiss. This one is soft enough to make Lucien shudder, and his hands slip up her shoulderblades as he readjusts so his hips are pressed more thoroughly between her legs. The air between them pierced with a much less volatile but much more tender emotion now, they slowly continue the process of exploring each other.

Elain peeks open an eye mid-kiss so she can watch as she pushes his shirt off the rest of the way to the floor, revealing the tan toned muscles of his biceps and forearms. She actually makes a pleased noise of surprise into the kiss at the sight of it. He’s been hiding from her this whole time in designer jackets and sweaters. She’s going to have to burn all his long-sleeved shirts after this.

Becoming greedy for more, Elain's hands drop to the front of Lucien's pants, making quick work of the button and zipper there. Before she can slide her hand in and cop a feel, though, Lucien snatches her wrists up, repinning her to the wall with his hips. A choked sound leaves her at this precise new angle, where she can feel exactly how hard and ready he is and he can probably feel her throbbing through the layers of remaining fabric between them.

Lucien is the first to change up the rhythm, his kisses becoming less patient and more desperate, hungry. A low moan leaves him and rumbles down her throat, and Elain is so glad they're on the same page for once. She rises onto her tiptoes so she can meet the roll of his hips thrust for thrust, and nearly keens when he hitches one of her thighs beneath an arm so they can get even closer.

Bracing his other hand against the wall by her ribs, Lucien ducks his head down to leave open-mouthed kisses across her chest. "You know, Elain," he groans over a small breast. "You just might end up being worth more than all of this."

“More than what?” she pants, watching him suck a flushed nipple into his mouth, feeling him flick his tongue against the flesh. His shoulders might tremble beneath her hands at the taste of her.

Instead of answering her question, Lucien sweeps her up into another heady kiss.

Thoughts are near impossible to form at this point, but somehow Elain goes so far as to form words. "I know you hate your father," she gasps between kisses, "and I hate him too." She bucks her hips up against his groin, searching for friction while she speaks. "But I'm going to make him love me if it's the last thing I do."

Like hell would that nasty old man get away with calling her trailer trash—nor would the Vanserra brothers get away with seeing her as a toy to be played with. Before she inevitably leaves Lucien, she’ll have to become one of them. No, become better than them.

Lucien clasps her jaw with one hand and presses her head back against the wall, his other hand searching along the inside of her thigh for the line of her panties. "Is this really what you want to be talking about right before I fuck you for the first time?" he grits out.

‘The first time’ indicating that there'll be several more times, a thought that makes Elain smile despite herself. Just for now, she almost—almost— wants to stay like this with him forever.

“Just wanted to get it out of the way—” She gasps as his fingers finally find the crotch of her underwear and push the soaked fabric aside. "I'm going to charm the shitty personality and old money right out of him, until you don't have to worry about protecting me anymore."

He chuckles darkly against her collarbone and slides two fingers along her slick skin, teasing until the last possible moment. "You fucking gold digger."

And whatever he does next with his hand must make Elain unravel completely, because she drops her head to his bare chest and pants, "Only for you. Only for you."

***

im at work so i couldnt finish editing the smutty parts sorry 😬

tags:

@rarephloxes

@moodymelanist

@arinbelle

@sayosdreams

@bridgertononmymind

@live-the-fangirl-life

@a-court-of-valkyries

@secretlovelybeauty

@humanexile

@helion-ism

@my-fan-side

@royaltykxx

@xoblivisci

@planet-faerie

@katekatpattywack

@imagine-me

@meridainthedisneyland

@jungtaekwoonie-is-life

@rainbowcheetah512

@valkyriewarriors

@loosingdreams

@chosenfamily-valkyriequeens

@perseusannabeth

@skychild29

@swankii-art-teacher

@a11yswift

@aightimmaheadoutsblog

@azrielbedara

@champanheandluxxury

@pixieelea

@theoverlyenthusiasticwriter

@teagoddess99

@seashade

@amandlas

[evilprrnce]

                      🇹​🇴​🇸​🇸​ 🇦​ 🇨​🇴​🇮​🇳​ 🇹​🇴​ 🇾​🇴​🇺​🇷​ 🇼​🇮​🇹​🇨​🇭​🇪​🇷​ 𝙏𝘼𝙎𝙆 𝟎𝟎𝟏

At the edge of the world fight the mighty horde That bashes and breaks you and  brings you the morn’

F Í S I C O

Voz: limpa e clara e um tanto grave. Normalmente, Sersak não eleva o volume da voz, o que demanda atenção de quem está ouvindo-o, caso contrário, não compreenderá o que ele está dizendo. Além disso, pouco se exalta para que pudesse elevá-la desnecessariamente. Tem boa dicção e articulação por conta de sua educação de príncipe. 

Idade: 25 anos.

Gênero: cisgênero masculino.

Peso: 90 kg.

Altura: 1,95 m.

Sexualidade: heterossexual. 

Defeitos físicos: a própria altura pode se traduzir num defeito físico, considerando que faz com que, vez ou outra, o bruxo permaneça encurvado para não ressaltar a diferença de tamanho dele perto de outras pessoas. De modo geral, contudo, não possuí marcas aparentes, já que até os quinze anos a mãe corrigiu com magia qualquer cicatriz que surgia em sua pele, exaltando o ideal de beleza e perfeição no qual acredita desde antes de se tornar a madrasta de Branca de Neve. Como que para contrariar a genitora, depois que dela se libertou, o moreno fez uma série de tatuagens pelo corpo (x, x, x, x e x), constituindo-se estas em novas marcas.

Qualidades físicas: a cor dos olhos — marrom avelã — é bastante incomum, tornando o aspecto do rosto mais gentil. Lábios, nariz e maxilar também compõem um bonito conjunto, como desejado por Grimhilde, e uma certa obsessão, da parte de Sersak, por manter a aparência alinhada, faz com que os traços sejam bem aproveitados. O que mais lhe agrada, contudo, sendo motivo de orgulho, é a barba que ostenta, alternando-a entre cheia (que o deixa com um aspecto mais envelhecido) e cerrada, raramente retirando-a por completo.

É saudável? Sofre de degeneração incurável: pode dizer apenas a verdade, não importam as circunstâncias. Esta decorre de maldição lançada nele, pela mãe, quando Sersak ainda contava com quinze anos, sem que ele tenha encontrado antídoto até então. Em verdade, hoje em dia pouco se dedica a procurar a reversão, tendo se acostumado com esta condição. Além disso, evita o uso de magia negra, uma vez que esta, quando utilizada em demasia, pode causar deformidades físicas e psíquicas.

Maneira de andar: mantém uma constante tensão nos ombros, como se carregasse o peso de muitas responsabilidades — típico de alguém sisudo. A forma como se porta pode se mostrar um tanto intimidadora para aqueles que não o conhecem a fundo e, de fato, quem o vê de fora pensa que é um vilão tanto quanto a mãe. Sersak se porta como um vilão enquanto caminha, mas sua atitude nada tem a ver com o apreço por seu legado, mas com anos de discriminação sofrida no interior da instituição. A forma como caminha também é um mecanismo de defesa, no fim.

P S I C O L Ó G I C O

Práticas / Hábitos: obcecado por pesquisas, sua rotina está voltada para o aprofundamento científico em diversos assuntos. Gosta de misturar misticismo e ciência, buscando sentido para as coisas. Por conta disso, pode-se dizer que tem uma veia investigativa, a qual não passa despercebida aos colegas da Anilen. Também é visto, vez ou outra, explorando rituais, a parte que mais lhe interessa dentro da Magia Negra.

Inteligência: Lógica. Pessoas com esse perfil de inteligência têm uma alta capacidade de memória e um grande talento para lidar com matemática e lógica em geral. Elas têm facilidade para encontrar solução de problemas complexos, com a capacidade de quebrar estes problemas em problemas menores e ir resolvendo cada um deles até chegar à resposta final. São pessoas organizadas e disciplinadas. É uma inteligência fortemente relacionada ao lado direito do cérebro.

Temperamento: Melancólico. Donos deste tipo de temperamento são perfeccionistas, analíticos, sacrificiais e de uma natureza extremamente sensível. Delineando bem o temperamento, Sersak, dentro de uma amizade, é um amigo fiel, mas não faz amigos com facilidade. Dificilmente procura novas amizades, aguarda que as pessoas venham ter consigo. Mais do que qualquer outro tipo de temperamento, o melancólico tem um forte desejo de ser amado e deseja relacionar-se, mas acha difícil expressar os seus sentimentos. É desconfiado quando pessoas ou experiências o desapontaram e encara com suspeita quando lhe dedicam muita atenção.

O que te faz feliz? Coisas pequenas, como o sucesso em algo no qual trabalhou muito, ou a ideia de ser parte de algo maior. Isso porque, na maior parte do tempo, sente que não pertence a nada e não ouve pessoas falando que se importam com ele.

O que te faz triste? Os abismos sociais, a dualidade bem e mal, preconceitos enraizados na sociedade de Mítica. Ele gostaria que as pessoas fossem mais abertas à mudança e entendessem que os tempos são outros. Fica mais decepcionado do que triste.

Esperanças: a longo prazo, e num espectro mais amplo, que as coisas mudem para pessoas como ele, que não desejam seguir um destino imposto ainda antes do nascimento. Para si, espera conseguir se livrar da maldição do Espelho e que Grimhilde repense suas ações, só então seria capaz de perdoá-la.

Medos: embora não admita, o esquecimento é um medo muito presente em sua vida, tendo em vista que, se nega o legado de sua mãe, nenhum papel restaria a ela nas histórias. Logo, é bem possível que acabe desaparecendo por ter sido esquecido.

Sonhos: Tornar-se um grande bruxo, da envergadura de Merlim, e tão respeitado quanto, sendo, assim, uma autoridade em Mítica em se tratando de feitiços e poções.

A S P E C T O S   P E S S O A I S

Família: o relacionamento com a família é praticamente inexistente. Há anos que não trocava uma palavra com a Rainha Má, tendo o feito recentemente somente por conta de uma situação de vida ou morte, literalmente. Há muito rancor da parte de Sersak, que não aceita as imposições da genitora para com ele. Para além, há o pai, que ele desconhece (Huntsman) e uma irmã mais nova que o despreza em igual medida que a mãe. Segundo Grimhilde, ela tivera outro filho, raptado de seus braços, porém, Andries não tem certeza se essa história é verdadeira.

Amigos: ironicamente, o melhor amigo de Sersak é um White, mostrando o quanto o rapaz é avesso aos dogmas familiares. O comportamento mais introspectivo não permite que tenha muitos amigos, embora ele mostre simpatia com quem merece, podendo se tornar uma companhia agradável. Não faz diferenciação quanto a prole de príncipes ou bruxas, não se mostrando elitista, tampouco se importando com status.

Estado Civil:  Solteiro. Enrolado (oi Eartha te amo kkkkkkk)

Terra Natal: Reino de Anima.

Infância: Não foi uma infância de contos de fada. Grimhilde criou o primogênito com injeções diárias do que Sersak chamava de “Síndrome da Realeza”; ódio por Branca de Neve e uma obsessão doentia por beleza. Os momentos mais triviais eram repletos de cobranças, fosse na aparência, fosse no que se referia aos poderes. Com isso, Andries foi ficando cada vez mais amargurado e introspectivo. Chegou até mesmo a passar por uma fase de rebeldia, em que se mostrara violento com todos, porém, com o tempo e muitas sessões de terapia dentro de Aether, essa fase também foi vencida.

Crenças: suas crenças são mais naturais do que religiosas em si. Acredita na autoridade do Narrador, e o respeita como tal, mas não dirige preces ao mesmo. Enquanto isso, entende a Natureza como um ente vivo, que oferece tudo o que o bruxo precisa para poções e encantamentos. Já realizou sacrifícios em seus rituais envolvendo Magia Negra, mas não se considera um adorador de demônios, como muitos pensam a seu respeito.

Hobbies: a caça é um de seus hobbies mais apreciados, um desenvolvido sem muito esforço e que tem a ver com a herança genética por ele desconhecida. Também gosta de ler e de jogos de estratégia.

P R Á T I C A S

Comida favorita: geralmente, aquilo que caça e é preparado na hora, mesmo sem muitos condimentos — ainda que sejam raríssimas as ocasiões em que esteja autorizado a acampar na floresta. Porém, se fosse pedir para que lhe servissem pratos especiais direto das cozinhas, diria para trazerem javali recheado e ensopado de coelho.

Bebida favorita: chá e licor de maçã.

O que costuma vestir? Embora esteja sempre trajando roupas limpas e alinhadas, não costuma chamar atenção pelo modo de vestir. As camisetas são dos estilo basic, de cores únicas e lisas, sendo que o bruxo prefere as de coloração neutra ou marrom. Em adição, calças pretas, mais justas do que largas, e botas de mesma cor. Para além das tatuagens, não traz muitos adornos, salvo um amuleto discreto em torno do pulso. Suas jaquetas são costumeiramente jeans ou sarja, forradas com pele nos dias frios.

O que mais o diverte? Pessoas pretensiosas. São muito engraçadas.

I N S P I R A Ç Õ E S

Oliver Queen (Arrow); Jack Dawson (Titanic); Lucien Vanserra (Corte de Espinhos e Rosas); Batman, Geralt de Rívia (The Witcher);  Killian "Hook" Jones (Once Upon a Time); Sirius Black (Harry Potter); Hades (Mitologia Grega) e Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders).

[wishfulimaginings]

I spent all of yesterday thinking how I can turn a prompt like "betrayal" into something funny and this is what I came up with.

For @erisweekofficial Day 3: Betrayal

Read on Ao3

Gross Betrayals

It was fall , the trees were a vibrant tapestry of yellow, orange and red, and the world was a beautiful mess. Belos Vanserra had decided to visit home when his mother informed him that his father was away on a business trip for the next 10 days. Although he had no desire to see his father, he missed his mother and his brothers. One such brother , whom he was currently babysitting, was on the ground mashing dried leaves and then eating it. This wasn't what he thought would happen when his brother begged him for a ride to the park because he needed to do something urgently .

"Lucien , are you eating dead leaves?"

Lucien looked up from his concoction and said " Its for medicinal purposes"

Belos must have made an incredulous face because Lucien immediately got defensive." Look what happened to my arms, look!", he said shoving his forearms into Belos's personal space.

" They look like a bug bites."

" It's from a deadly bug called Culicidae Mosca! The only way to counter its venom is to eat dried Red maple leaves twice a day for a week!"

Belos squinted and said, " ..... and a doctor told you this?"

" No. Eris told me! He googled it and everything! He said I have Mosca itobitis !"

" He told you , you have mosquito bitis?",asked Belos unable to hide his amusement.

Lucien's face went slack as the wheels started turning in his brain. " This is a mosquito bite isn't it?", he asked.

Belos pressed his lips together as he tried to control his smile. "mhm....where are you going?"

" To spit this bite in Eris's tea and tell him its Maple flavoured."

Belos couldn't stop his laugh then. This was why he loved coming home when Beron wasn't around, there was never a dull day in the Vanserra house in his father's absence. To Lucien he said ,"Wait, I have a better idea."

*

Eris was having the best fall. He was having an even better Saturday. No father to harass him, no mom to supervise and blissfully no brothers to hog on the tv or restrict his content. He was so proud of himself for getting the kids out of the house, it was a pleasurable activity all on its own. It wasn't his fault if his brothers were too thick to realise when they were being tricked. October was the prime month for pranks , all these years with him and they still fell for it. Every. Single. Time. Little Lucien was as gullible as a fish and it made him an easy target. Killian was harder to get rid of , but Eris was nothing if not thorough. He'd been pining after the new Playstation for so long that Eris couldn't resist but use that obsession against him.

Feeling entirely too relaxed, he grabbed himself a soda and sank into the couch to watch an episode of Game of Thrones on the big flat screen. The lengths he'd gone to, to get the miscreants out of the house felt worthy of its own HBO series. 

Eris was smack in the middle of an intense scene when his phone started buzzing next to him. The screen flashed 'Little Lucien'. 

He answered the phone with an annoyed "What, Lucien? " as he paused the TV. His instinct was to start with the word NO . Knowing his brother, it couldn't be anything good .

SOS, SOS!" he heard his kid brother cry in his ear ,his voice trembling. " Erisss" he sobbed desperately.

It was the sob that snapped Eris out of his GoT induced daze and into emergency mode. 

" Lucien! What's wrong why do you sound like that?"

" I fell off a tree."

" WhAt? Why were you in a tree?! Where are you?  And Where's Belos? Didn't you leave here with him? "

" I don't know, okay?! I was looking for red maple leaves but the only ones I could find were brown or yellow! Then I saw  red ones high up on this tree and I thought I can tottally climb that but then I fell and I think I broke my leg. Please Eris, it really hurts!"

"Fuck", he swore grabbing the front of his hair as he stood up to find his keys.

" I'm not allowed around that word!"

" Stay where you are Lucien. I'm coming. Do. Not. Move. Share your live location with me . I'm coming." 

Eris didn't know if he had ever driven this fast before. With his heart hammering in his chest from panic, he wondered if perhaps he should have called 911 first. He wasn't sure if Lucien's leg was actually broken, but what if it was? Did he have anything that could be used as a splint in this car? 

The GPS took him to a conservancy not far from their home. He parked the car and started running because the little dot that was Lucien was still a good 10 minute hike in from where he was. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. Their mother was going to murder him, Eris was a dead man walking.

Halfway through ,he realised that the dot!Lucien had veered away from the path. Cursing, Eris followed the map into the thick foliage nearly dizzy with guilt. Where the hell are you?!

He was so consumed by his panic that he failed to notice the rope snare and before he knew it , he was hanging upside down, ten feet off the ground.

WHAT THE FFF-

Peels of Lucien's laughter filled his ears and Eris was simultaneously filled with relief and rage. The kid was okay, their mother would not kill him after all. This was not an ethical prank. Eris nearly died from a panic attack.

"LUCIEN !! This is a gross betrayal of trust! AND an abhorrent misuse of the sacred 'SOS' ! Do you not know about the boy who cried WOLF?! LUCIEN! GET ME DOWN."

"na uh"

"LUCIEN!" 

That's when he spied his older brother leaning against the tree he'd tied Eris to , with his legs crossed and arms folded .

"Belos!!!"

Belos threw his hands up, palms out in a gesture of innocence, and said, "Hey, I’m not involved!"

" Like hell you're not."

Before Eris could either threaten or bargain with his elder brother Lucien said, " I don't hear an apology Eris."

" For what ? Being smarter than you? How gullible can you be, Little Lucien ? "

"That doesn't sound like remorse " , quipped Lucien who had also folded his arms. 

 " Fucking hell all the blood is in my head now! My brain is drowning and my organs are about to fall out of my mouth!", cried Eris in desperation, ever the drama queen.

Belos said, " That sounds medically impossible."

Lucien's eyes sparkled as he said , " I have a few demands."

Eris could barely speak. 

" I'm not taking any buses to my Hockey practices anymore. From now on, you have to drive me. And you're no longer allowed to say the F word. Every time you slip up you have to pay me a 10 dollar fine. Also, I require a 50 dollar Phantom Ailment fine for all the leaves I ingested.   "

"Not a chance."

Lucien stepped forward and gave him a solid shove , and Eris started to swing back and forth like a human pendulum.

" This is torture! Its a punishable offence, you'll end up in juvie!"

Belos, his face bright red from laughter said ," Just agree to his terms before you start orbiting the earth ."

"NO."

Lucien tried to give him another shove, but Eris began flailing his arms and said,"Okay, okay fine! You win. Just get me down- I'm starting to lose my eyesight up here." 

"If you go back on your word , I'll tell mom about this.", warned Lucien.

The kid learned fast, Eris could respect that. Not that he would ever say it to Lucien's face.

" Okay", Eris squeaked.

Lucien nodded to Belos who undid the ropes and Eris fell to the forest floor like a sack of potatoes.

The moment he had his feet under him Eris lunged towards Lucien , who swiftly ducked behind his eldest brother to escape Eris's grabby hands while Belos yelled , "Enough! You got what you deserved." 

" A betrayal of the grossest kind. That's what today shall be remembered as Lucy." 

*

As they began their hike back to their cars Belos suddenly asked , "Where is Killian?"  And Eris , feigning intense interest in the forest, pretended not to hear.

Belos stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and demanded, "Where is Killian , Eris?"

"Firstly let me remind you that I've just been through a traumatic event and you should show me some compassion."

"ERIS!"

"Secondly , its not my fault that I have all the brains in this family. These two are stupid beyond belief."

Lucien exclaimed, " Hey!"

Belos gritted his teeth as he asked, "What. Did. You Do?"

Eris sighed and confessed, "I told him the veil between the worlds is thinnest right before Halloween. I said if he really wants something, like real bad, he should light 41 candles and arrange them in a circle, then draw a pentagram , sit inside it and pray for 14 hours. "

Lucien started howling beside them, and Belos couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of him either. A sudden thought struck him and he asked, “Eris, did you seriously send him to a graveyard?!”

Eris replied, “I considered it, but then I figured he’d drag me along if he got too spooked. So, nope. I sent him to church."

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

It's impossible to chose just one so time for poll

Let's try to reduce this looong list. Every single of the names calls me. If I won't use it for GoL I'll definitely save it for the future

[separatist-apologist]

Still A Sunbeam

Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Read on AO3

It was a dream and not a vision. She could wake herself up if she wanted—and Elain knew she ought to want that. Trapped in a room spun of gold and orange, her body pressed into a soft mattress by a hard, inviting body. Elain didn’t know which was worse—that it was Lucien Spell-Cleaver’s mouth on her neck, or that she was so unforgivably aroused that Elain didn’t pull herself back to consciousness. 

Lucien was merely a manifestation of her kiss with Killian, Elain rationalized. His mouth moved the same way Killian’s had, though dream Lucien had taken things a step further by grinding himself into her. Elain couldn’t pretend she hadn’t been interested in the bulge in Killian’s pants.

Everyone she knew had divested themselves of their virginity the first chance they got. 

Elain hadn’t, too afraid of disappointing her mother or her future husband. She’d held fast, a fact she immensely regretted now that she was cresting toward a familiar oblivion.

She might not have experience being with a male, but she understood what to do with her fingers well enough. Lucien was stimulating a similar experience with just his body, just his cock hidden beneath that white fabric draped over his hips. Elain ran her fingers through his hair and arched against him. She was going to come from just this alone. 

She needed to.

“Lucien,” she breathed, the name strange on her tongue. He swallowed the plea with a ragged groan and Elain…

Elain was awake. Bright light poured through her closed eyelids while her body throbbed from unmet need. She tried to get back to that place, just long enough for Lucien to finish what he’d started, even as discomfort filled her stomach.

She didn’t think she wanted Lucien to get her off. Opening her eyes, Elain jolted back to reality. Arina was in bed beside her, bleary eyed and uncharacteristically rumpled. Elain wouldn’t say they’d become friends the night before, though she liked to think they were close to it, given Elain had held Arina’s thick hair off her face as she’d thrown up that evening.

Arina glanced over, a smile tugging against her pallid face. “Lucien, huh?”

Elain groaned. “How did you know?”

Arina adopted a high pitched, breathy voice as she teased, “Oh Lucien, don’t stop—”

Elain shoved at her, embarrassed beyond measure. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s okay if it is. Everyone at court wants Lucien in their bed—”

“Including you?” Elain demanded without ire, sitting up to rub the back of her neck. Arina’s smile faltered just a little.

“No,” she disagreed. “Not me.”

“Are you going to tell me what last night was about?” Elain questioned. Arina stiffened, reminding her that they weren't really friends, no matter how much she wished for the opposite. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened with Killian?” Arina replied, thinking, perhaps, that Elain wouldn’t.

Helion had only demanded Lucien’s silence. It was risky—and yet it was the only leverage Elain had. If Arina betrayed her, she still had her bargain with the Lady of Day at least for the year. And after that, well…well Elain might try and run for the continent if she couldn’t figure anything else out.

“I’m a Seer,” she said plainly, holding Arina’s gaze. “And when Killian came to see me, I had a vision at his feet. He can’t know—”

“Because his father would lock you away,” Arina murmured softly, nodding her head. 

“I kissed him as a distraction,” Elain said, which was true enough. 

Arina took a deep breath. “Eris Vanserra is…”

Elain watched Arina take a breath and shake out her trembling hands. “Eris Vanserra and I…”

Elain scooted just a little closer, heart hammering in her chest. Stil, she didn’t speak as she waited for Arina to say the words that eluded her.

“Mates,” Arina finally managed, her eyes bright with unshed ears. “The bond it—”

“Oh,” Elain whispered. “Oh.”

Oh, but you look like one. 

Arina rubbed the heel of her hand against her eyes. 

“Have you spoken with him?”

“No,” Arina admitted, shifting beneath the white blanket they were still laying beneath. They were in her apartment in the city and Elain imagined Arina would continue to stay until Eris left. “I am afraid of what he might say.”

“I could chaperone,” Elain offered, straightening slightly. “Somewhere public—maybe in the garden. Quiet enough for privacy but not so quiet no one would hear if you screamed? You could…make your intentions plain to him?”

“Would you reject a mating bond?” Arina asked her. Elain’s stomach clenched at the thought. Mates were so rare to start with—everyone hoped to find theirs. Elain was not immune to it, having grown up in a home where the High Lord and Lady were mates and loved each other beyond reason, beyond sense. The High Lord was cruel to everyone—his children, his court, his friends.

But not his wife. Not his mate. And Helion and Amera, well…Elain wanted what they had so bad it made her teeth ache. It was clear Arina did, too. That all the hopes she’d had about her own life were being dashed at the realization that she’d been paired irrevocably with a Vanserra.

“In Autumn,” Arina continued, understanding Elain’s silence, “Females are the property of their mates—of males. It’s why Lady Amera couldn’t leave until the mating bond between her and Helion snapped.”

“We’re not in Autumn,” Elain reminded Arina helpfully. “He can’t do anything but court you.”

“He doesn’t seem like the courting type,” Arina admitted bitterly.

“Do you want me to arrange a meeting?” Elain asked.

“Yes,” Arina said after a long moment. “I…I just need to know what he’s thinking. And I need him to know I’m not going to Autumn.”

Witnessing a bond rejection sounded miserable and yet Elain only smiled. “Leave it to me.”

Arina and Elain eventually made their way back to the palace where it was still early enough she could smell breakfast wafting down the hall. She was tempted to follow it, starving after a night of too much drinking and not enough food. She might have, too, had she not stumbled into Killian and Lucien just at the end of the hall.

Lucien looked—gods, but he looked handsome. In a black waistcoat and well-tailored pants, there was something obscene about how his jacket laid against his neck, how he’d tied his hair off his face in a low ponytail. His hands flexed at his sides, unadorned with the usual jewelry. She was staring, she realized, but the more skin he covered, the more appealing he’d become. 

“Elain,” Killian murmured, drawing her attention back to him. Lucien’s eyes glittered with amusement right until Killian lowered his mouth and pressed a kiss to her lips. Elain had been so busy looking at Lucien that she hadn’t realized what was happening. 

Lucien turned away, his disgust plain. 

“Are you going somewhere?” Elain asked, speaking to Killian even as she kept her eyes on Lucien.

He grinned, then. “Dawn,” he told her, eyes cutting toward Killain. 

“Why?”

“Don’t you worry about that–” Killian began, caressing her face.

“A disturbance on the border,” Lucien said at the exact same time. Elain pulled from Killian to face Lucien entirely. He cut a look of warning to her and Elain understood this was how Lucien was getting rid of Killain for her. Take him to the border his territory shared with Dawn and when they returned, Killian would have to go. 

Don’t ask to join us, she swore those russet eyes said. 

“Good luck,” she said, noting the breath Lucien exhaled. He was getting to escape his mothers birthday on her account, and while Elain was certain deep, deep down Lucien could be a gentleman, she didn’t think this act of charity had anything to do with her.

He was trying to avoid his brothers. 

“Will you come home for Calanmai?” Killian asked, unaware of how rigid Lucien went behind him. Elain did, though. She was still staring at the sharp edge of his jacket collar and how it brushed against the edge of his strong jaw. 

“I…” She knew what he was asking. His father always picked his mother for the celebration, which left his four sons to choose among the rest of Spring. Maidens still lined themselves up, hoping for the High Lord's attention and settling for his sons when it was clear the mating bond still overrode his senses. 

Elain knew if she was anywhere in Spring, Killian would find her. And she didn’t think she wanted her first time to be in the grass while a mindless male drove himself into her. 

“Details to be worked out later,” Lucien interjected with a roll of his eyes. “We ought to leave if we want to be in Dawn in time for lunch.”

Killian offered Elain a sweeping bow while Lucien, impertinent as ever, merely winked in her direction. 

“Think about it,” Killian murmured, taking her hand and squeezing softly. Elain felt as though she were drowning, trapped in a hell of her own making. She’d led him on and now he wanted her at Calanmai—he was courting her in earnest, then. And while Elain was imagining freedom at the end of the year, she knew Killian was imagining a wife. 

“I will,” Elain lied, her decision already made. Killian offered her one last lingering look before trailing after Lucien, who was halfway down the hall. Elain would have to thank him for this later, even if she thought he’d only agreed because it benefited him personally. 

She had a task, besides. Clearing her head of Killian and Calanmai, Elain began winding through the palace inquiring after Eris. Where was he? 

In the library, of all places. Elain thought he’d become more handsome in the years since she’d seen him last. Fair, smooth skin, full lips and high cheekbones betrayed him as part of Beron Vanserra’s brood. That auburn hair, swept off his face gracefully, and the amber eyes, though? That was all Lady Amera. Eris was as tall as Lucien, towering over her as she approached, though built far leaner than the muscular Lucien. Handsome, though. Eris was still so, so handsome. 

If it had been her, would she still think so? If a bond had snapped between her and Eris, would she be standing in the open atrium of the library marveling over his good looks? Or would she be hiding in the city, too?

Elain couldn’t answer that. Instead, she made her way toward the prince of Autumn, half hidden behind one of the tall stacks. A rather large book was held open in the palm of his hand, snapped shut when he saw her approaching.

For a moment, Elain thought she saw nothing but empty despair in Eris’s eyes. Certainly, even when he smiled there was no warmth—barely any life at all. 

“Little Elain Archeron,” he said, grinning two rows of straight, pearly teeth at her. “All grown up.”

“Hi Eris,” she said, shyer than she’d meant. He was still the hero of her childhood and no matter what terrible things she’d heard about him, Elain always remembered the male who’d jumped in the pond after her, risking his own drowning death to save her. 

“I saw Killian stalking the halls. Tell me this isn’t a stop on your honeymoon,” he said conspiratorially. 

“No,” she rushed to assure him, unsure why. “He’s just visiting. Lady Amera has taken me under her wing.”

“What a fine place to be,” he said, though he stiffened ever so slightly. “Giving you access to her libraries, is she?”

“Yes,” Elain agreed. It occurred to her that Eris may have come to the library not in search of knowledge, but because he’d learned Arina was a scholar. “I uh…I’ve come to invite you to meet with Arina.”

His gaze sharpened. “Oh?”

“She wants to know if you’d like to talk in the garden.”

Eris had gone utterly still, clutching the book in his hand so hard Elain could see the whites of his knuckles. 

“Why would I want to meet with her?” he finally asked. He’d become so, so cold and when he looked at her, there was a warning etched against his features. “She’s merely a scholar I have no interest in.”

“But–”

Eris tilted his head in warning, lips pressed in a thin line. “But?” he whispered, the word utterly deadly.

“What about…?” Elain had the sense she was missing something terrible. Eris reached for Elain, his long fingers curling around his wrist with just enough force to pull her further into the shadows.

“About nothing,” he swore, his voice barely above a whisper. “There is nothing to discuss—and whatever you heard, whatever she thinks is a mistake.”

Elain’s chest ached. “Eris.”

“Don’t meddle, Elain Archeron,” he warned her, releasing his grip on her wrist. “Just as I won’t when I meet with the High Lord of Spring next week.”

Elain met his gaze. “There is nothing you could say—”

“I heard you and my brother are working together. Alone?” Eris suggested, his eyes searching her own. “How lovely to see little Lucien, who has quite the reputation, take such an interest in you. I’m sure it means nothing…but I heard you two were alone together in the city last evening and you didn’t return until daybreak.”

“That’s cruel,” Elain said, stumbling back a step. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would dare, Elain. Whatever rumors you’ve heard about me are true. I am not your friend. And Arina means nothing to me.”

Elain looked down to his hands, trembling at his sides despite the cold, mocking expression on his face.

“Your secret is safe,” she murmured, swallowing hard. Elain turned to deliver the news to Arina—Eris was scared—when he caught her by the elbow. Bringing his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his lips brush her skin, he whispered, “Is she safe here?”

Elain only nodded, taking a breath. Eris released her and adjusted his jacket. “It was nice seeing you again, Elain. You’ve become radiant.”

Elain wished she could pay him the same compliment, but Eris looked miserable beneath his sneering countenance.

What in Autumn could be so awful that he’d rather reject his own mate than speak with her? 

Elain hoped never to learn.

ERIS: 

The sounds of a thudding base reverberating through glass sent Eris from his bedroom. He wasn’t the only one. His brothers had converged in the hall, dull eyed and exhausted from two days of trying—and perhaps failing—not to prove the High Lord of Day right about them. Eris knew very well what Helion Spell-Cleaver saw when he looked at them. 

Proof of Beron Vanserra’s cruelty. Children forced on his mate that she’d never wanted and was still forced to deal with. Children who would never compare to his own son, to his mother’s favored child. 

Eris had only been nineteen when his mother left. Connall had been six. Eris wondered how Helion reconciled that—that he’d stolen their mother from them when all but Eris was a boy. Cadmus had been fifteen and Tanwen ten. Were they truly damned already? Unsavable? 

Or merely not worth the effort? Helion got his perfect family and Eris, who’d stepped in to try his best to shield his brothers from the worst of their fathers rage, refused to let Helion forget where his mate had come from. 

For as long as Eris lived, Helion would never have true peace. 

And neither would Eris, it seemed. Rubbing his temples, he considered just leaving. What was the point of another tense breakfast in which Helion guarded their mother, gold eyes watching every word to the point it was impossible to talk to her at all? Eris couldn’t determine if she’d asked Helion to do that, or if he simply hated them so much he did it all on his own.

“Should we…?” Tanwen asked, running a hand through his auburn hair nervously. 

“No,” Eris whispered. Hidden just out of sight, they watched Helion Spell-Cleaver make his way past, unaware he was being watched. Eris swallowed his resentment that Helion didn’t need to think of such things—he wasn’t being spied on constantly.

“Come on,” he whispered, gesturing for his brothers to follow. He hoped they’d be able to steal a minute of their mothers time and wherever the High Lord was going, it wasn’t to meet his mate. His brothers fell in line, following him like they always had. If Eris could count on nothing else, it was their loyalty. At least for now, Eris didn’t worry about a knife in his back. Not when they were all fighting a common enemy—Beron Vanserra. 

Eris knew the way to the High Lord’s chambers, having been granted access only once in the early years. He knocked, heart hammering in his throat.

Please be here, please be here, please—

“Come in,” came his mothers soft, lilting voice. Eris glanced at his brothers, with their squared shoulders and carefully blank faces. All of them, just like him, were reminding themselves not to get their hopes up. Pushing his way in, he found her sitting tucked into a chair just beside an empty fireplace, book in hand. 

“Boys,” she said, relaxing when Eris had expected her to tense. Connall locked the door quietly behind them while Tanwen removed the axes from his back out of respect. Only for her—only here would they allow themselves this small show of vulnerability. “I was hoping we might…” she took a breath and marked her page before offering them her full attention. There was a guarded wariness to her eyes that made Eris feel a bolt of misery.

Did she think so little of them, too?

Cadmus stepped forward, hands behind his back. All eyes on their brother, who shared the most in common with Beron when it came to features. Their mother looked at him and Eris wondered—just as he knew Cadmus did—if his mother saw her son, or the husband she’d never wanted. 

“Are you well?” Cadmus asked nervously. 

She rose to her feet, her long white night dress skimming the marble floor beneath her bare feet. She went to him and though each of her sons were a good head and shoulders taller than her, she cupped Cadmus’s face.

“What price will he exact for your presence?” she whispered, brushing her thumb against Cadmus’s stubbled cheek. 

All four of them looked away. That she knew at all was damning. All of Eris’s accusations rose in his throat, his resentment burning against the back of his eyes. None of them wanted to miss her—to love her. And yet standing in her presence, Eris felt like a little boy again, desperate for his mothers time and attention. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Tanwen said earnestly, russet eyes bright. “Tell us about you.” It was safer to pretend they’d go home tomorrow and Beron would show only mild interest in how they’d spent their time.

But Eris knew what Beron had in store for them. He’d all but promised it with a sneer, irate they’d ever choose to see their mother when he loathed her so. The only satisfaction Beron was granted was thinking they made Helion miserable—which was pure truth. Still, they could pretend for her sake. 

His mother patted the spot beside her and Cadmus practically tripped over his feet to sit beside her. The rest of them took up chairs, scooting close enough she could talk softly. She told them of life in Rhodes—of the bees that some of the gardeners had begun to keep and of her amusements in the palace. She spoke of Lucien fondly, and told them about Elain Archeron coming to court with eyes that spoke to her hope her youngest son might get something out of the Spring Court lady’s presence.

And she spoke of missing them. “I wish you could visit more often,” she’d said, gripping Cadmus’s hand with such earnest, unguarded affection.

Beside Eris, Connall’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “Why didn’t you take us with you?” he asked, his voice little more than a rasp of air. 

“Connall,” Eris hissed, even though he, too, wanted to hear the answer. Surely it could have been just him who stayed? 

His mother shook her head. “No, I…I’ve wanted to explain this. I’m sorry,” she added, eyes shifting from each of them. “I know Helion and Lucien…they mean well.”

None of the Vanserra’s dared to take a breath. They didn’t absolve her, but didn’t dare condemn her, either. They knew what their father was like, even if they wished for something different.

“I tried,” she whispered after a moment, elegant hands twisting in her lap. “I told Helion I was rejecting the bond—that I intended to remain in Autumn with your father.” Eris had never heard this story. It certainly wasn’t the way Beron Vanserra recalled events. One day his mother had been putting his brothers to bed and presiding over the ladies at court and the next she’d fled, gone in the night to Day and refused to return. 

“Your father, he—”

He’d figured it out. Eris gazed at his mother, forcing her to hold his stare. 

She swept her long, thick hair from her shoulders and tugged down one side of her sleep dress, revealing long, pink puckered scars trailed along her spine. All four of them recoiled, as if they didn’t have similar markings on their own body.

“Helion called a council of the High Lords after I managed to get out. I tried to bring you with me, but he’d hidden the four of you away. I couldn’t find you. And after, I begged him to forget—I swore I’d stay, that I didn’t want Helion, that—” Her breath caught in her throat. 

“He would never have accepted it,” Eris said dully. Beron would have been insulted at the mere thought of another male’s claim to his wife.

“The High Lords took a vote on whether you would be allowed to come to Day with me,” she told them miserably, hands still twisting. “Eris was never part of that conversation—given you were Beron’s heir and mostly grown, they argued you had to stay.”

“And the rest of us?” Connall asked, gripping the arm of his chair so tightly he was in danger of breaking it.

“Six of them voted for you to stay in Autumn,” she whispered, a tear streaking down her cheek. 

“Six?” Eris repeated, his stomach lurching. “Who—”

“Helion,” she whispered, unable to look at them. “He argued to bring the rest of you here. He said—he said you were so little. He offered to instruct you but…but the others felt there was a chance Eris wasn’t Beron’s heir, and a foreign court had no business raising another High Lord’s progeny. So you all stayed where I wasn’t allowed to speak to you and I hoped…”

The air was so thick, so heavy with her regrets. Connall rose to his feet and crossed the gap between them. Falling to one knee, he took their mothers hand in his own and laid a kiss against her skin.

“We know what he’s like,” Connall whispered treasonously. “We just…”

It was so painful, watching the five of them try and repair so much hurt. Eris’s stomach clenched tightly, the words trapped in his throat. 

“We just want to spend time with you,” Connall finally managed, eyes dropping to the ground as shame heated his cheeks. They shouldn’t need her—or even want to need her. And yet they did. They were no better than children right then, hoping and wishing for affection. 

She closed her eyes, allowing two tears to glide over her cheeks. “I have been so afraid I’ve…I’ve held you all at arm's length. How could you not—I would be so angry if it were me—” She looked up at Eris with those knowing eyes. “You shouldn’t presume so much,” he managed, hating how his voice cracked. 

She nodded, mouth open to say something else. Whatever it might have been remained, as Helion Spell-Cleaver stepped through the doors at that precise moment.

All heads turned to look at him. Eris surveyed the High Lord cooly, imagining him at that meeting with six other High Lords, arguing on behalf of children he didn’t want. It didn’t make them even—Helion had never been kind, only cordial. Distant and cold, with eyes that betrayed how little he trusted them. Even then, a wariness slid over his features as he looked to his sniffling mate.

“What’s going on in here?”

“Just catching up,” their mother said, a bright smile on her beautiful face. “The boys were asking me about the bees.”

All four Vanserra’s had slid their masks over their faces. Connall, still kneeling before their mother, rose to his feet gracefully. “We’re thinking of starting a garden back home.”

Lies, of course. Helion turned to look at Eris, his wariness and distrust enough to make Eris stand. He’d never be free of this place. Long after his mother died, Lucien would still be around as a reminder of what she could have had—and Arina, too. 

Fucking Arina.

“We’ll take our leave.”

“You don’t…” Helion trailed off as all four stood. 

“Better than being watched like animals,” Tanwen snarled, reaching for his axes.

“Boys—”

“Another time,” Cadmus told her. They’d gotten some answers and some time, short as it was. Helion looked almost apologetic as they filed out, leaving her behind in her bedroom. Would she tell her mate what they’d asked? How she’d seen their hurt, if only for a minute.

“I’m going to fuck something,” Connall said after a second, snapping his head in the direction of the thudding music. Eris wanted to join, to lose himself to the pleasure of a slick body beneath his own.

He couldn’t. Fuck him, but the mere thought of touching someone else made his skin crawl. While his brothers branched off, Eris made his way toward the back gardens and the winding, sandy path toward the beach. The air was muggy, causing Eris to shed his jacket for the white shirt beneath. 

At home, the water was too cold to swim in. Here, though, Eris could shed his boots and socks, roll his pants to his knees, and wade into bath warm water. He sighed loudly, the sound swallowed by the crashing waves around him. Moonlight brushed his cheek, lulling him into a false sense of security.

It was the wind that dragged that vanilla and lime scent. The musky sweetness of someone that didn’t belong to him. He heard the soft jangling of jewelry, and when he turned, there she was. Glimmering even in the dark, like a sunbeam made manifest. Her name was Arina. Elain had told him that. 

He couldn’t stop looking as she approached. Little gold bracelets adorned her wrists and ankles, while a low slung skirt made it seem as if her hips swayed with each slow step. She wore nothing over her midriff, her breasts hidden beneath sheer fabric and well placed, gold dusted pearls. Eris swallowed hard—a breeze ruffled her thick, long hair, dragging it over her obscenely beautiful face. 

She means nothing to you. 

If Beron learned of her, there would be hell to pay. Besides, he reminded himself—Lucien had touched her so possessively that Eris was almost certain they were together. Just like always,

Lucien got everything Eris wanted. 

She came to stand beside him, gazing out at the water with unreadable eyes. Eris didn’t say a word, unsure what he even could say. He’d told Elain Arina was nothing to him—and he’d meant it, even if it pained him. 

“I saw you walk out,” she finally said, her voice as soft as the whispering wind. “Your brothers went to dance. Do—do you not dance?”

He glanced over at her. “I’m not interested in the revelry.”

Her lips formed a soft oh, one he didn’t dare read into. She didn’t want him. It was why she’d sent Elain in her place to arrange a meeting. Eris squared his shoulders and straightened his spine. Not all mates were a good match, he reminded himself. He could envision no path for either of them that didn’t end in pain. 

He was so stupid—so incredibly stupid for asking, “Do you dance?”

She shifted her weight, jangling ever so slightly. Of course she did. She looked exactly like the dancers Helion often employed. Eris could imagine how devastating she was. The thought made his chest tight, made his hands clammy. 

“Yes,” she murmured, turning her eyes back to him. Eris wished she wouldn’t. He wished she’d run away like everyone else did. He kept his focus on the inky horizon, certain she’d realize he wasn’t good company and take off. If she’d been any other female, Eris would have said something cruel to scare her off. He couldn’t bring himself to do it—not when he knew a broken bond was hanging between them.

“Elain told me what you said,” Arina finally murmured, turning to face him fully. “Why?”

“I thought you’d be grateful,” Eris replied, hating how quickly his heart was beating. He was scared. All he wanted was what his mother had—that small bit of peace in their shitty world. And he was going to lose it before he’d ever even started. He’d never get her back—and he’d spent the rest of his life wanting her, wishing he’d been someone else. 

“I thought you’d throw me over your shoulder and make me your wife,” she snapped. Eris suppressed the urge to groan, rounding on her. She was a good head shorter than him and somehow made him feel like the sand beneath her bare feet. 

“Is that what you want?” he asked, advancing like a predator. Arina held her ground.

“Why you?”

He laughed. “Why me? Are you lamenting that you’re trapped with a future High Lord? I thought this was the sort of thing females dreamed about.”

She put her hands on her hips, unaware of how close Eris came to falling to his knees. “Mates are equals. You’ll be High Lord but I—”

He wondered that, too. “Show me,” he said instead, because he knew there was magic simmering just beneath the warm gold of her skin.

“You first,” she replied, teeth sinking against her plush bottom lip. Practically preening, Eris erupted in flame, igniting the beach in brutal, shimmering heat. Light erupted through the inky dark, illuminating Arina’s beautiful face in a warm, orange glow. Eris let it flow through him, bathed in that ancient magic that marked him. 

A warm wind tickled his face, threatening to make a wildfire out of him. He didn’t recognize, at first, that the air was manipulated until Eris choked and the flame extinguished from his form. It was her—the architect of his destruction, the engineer of his fury. Eris fell to his knees, lips pressed together even when his lungs ached for a breath. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him beg.

He was already on his knees, after all.

Arina released her choking hold and Eris gasped, eyes closing. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what kind of offspring they’d produce. 

Eris rose to his feet, wiping sand from his knees. “Have you been sufficiently answered?” he rasped. 

“No,” she admitted, shaking out her hand carefully. 

“Break it, then,” Eris said dismissively, ignoring how his throat felt as though it were coated in sand. “I won’t stop you.”

He turned, intending to reach for his jacket and his boots and storm back inside while she shouted it at his back. 

You’re unworthy of a mate. You know you are. This is for the best. 

Arina caught his wrist, unaware of how that little touch ignited the heat in his blood. Eris didn’t turn, though he did look down to where their skin connected. 

“Is that what you want?” she asked, creeping just a little closer. She was so young, so unaware of how much worse things could be. Safe—cosseted by Helion and his younger brother. And yet out here with him. Eris knew the things people whispered about him. The rumors he never bothered to clear up, that he was content to let swirl if only to pacify his father.

“Yes.”

Arina didn’t drop his arm, nor did Eris pull away. Their eyes collided and Eris was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to push her into the sand and kiss her. To fuck her right then and there until she was drenched in his scent and his come. 

“You’re a liar, Eris Vanserra,” she whispered, condemnation dripping from every word.

“So? You still get what you want, so who cares?”

“You’re so sure you know what I want?” she challenged. Eris snapped, reaching for her waist to pull her against him. Arina’s gasped as his hand spanned her throat, fingers tracing her lips as he tilted her back and brought his mouth so close to her own he was all but kissing her. 

“Oh? Is this what you want, Arina? To fuck me in the sand—be my pretty Autumn wife and bare my brood?”

She pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him back. Eris held fast, because he needed her to see what a mistake this way. To imagine any goodness was folly—this was all she’d ever get. 

“Tell me, mate. Is this what you want, to—”

She shoved at him hard, wind pushing him further with the help of an angry gust of wind. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He wanted to fuck her so bad. Eris stumbled back, wiping at his face as if she’d struck him. “Then you’re stupid,” he spat, certain this would be the moment he looked back on when he wondered when he’d fallen in love with her. That didn’t stop him from turning on his heel before he could act on impulse.

“Everyone is afraid of me.”

[separatist-apologist]

OMG SAS IS LIFE!!!

I think that Rhys and Lucien (along with Cassian if he makes an appearance) should make an Archeron brother-in-law support group because boys need to help each other out.

Plus, Night and Day working together to stop a common enemy is kind of poetic.

It's brother-in-law:

“Fuck you,” Lucien snarled as Rhysand laughed, taking them higher into the mountains. Lucien could do nothing but cling to the princes’ neck and pray he didn’t go careening to his death. He supposed dying would be enough to convince his father to align with Spring, and given Rhysand was trying very hard to avoid that outcome, Lucien was safe enough.

It was tempting to kiss the ground when Rhysand deposited him onto the marble floor of the outdoor corridor, though he chose to grip the railing and focus on his breathing. 

“Bastard,” Luicen panted, ignoring how Rhysand was still chuckling.

“And here I was thinking the Day Court heir liked a bit of fun.”

Lucien was going to kill him. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“I had to wipe that smug look off your face,” Rhysand replied, turning his back before Lucien could retort.

vs brother & sister-in-law:

“Rumors?” she squeaked. 

“Yes, little sister,” Tanwen said with a sharp, gleaming smile. “Rumors of you and baby Lucien running off together…of disappearing on a pleasure barge in Summer…and of course, so many private lessons.”

“Rumors are hardly truth,” Elain replied, working to keep herself utterly neutral. Too neutral, she realized, because both Vanserras pushed into the room like sharks circling. 

“No?” Tanwen challenged. “So you’re not our little sister? And we shouldn’t intervene if Killan..I don’t know…requested to come and assist his older brother?”

It was an impossible choice. Admitting she was their sister confirmed the rumors and gave them leverage. Denying it meant Killian would come barging in and she’d be forced to explain why she didn’t want to marry him without her mating bond to shield her. Elain needed acceptance before she told Killain.

“Don’t you trust us?” Cadmus asked, his voice shifting ever so slightly.

“Or did baby brother warn you about how awful and evil we are?” Tanwen taunted. There was genuine hurt there, lacing their words bitterly. “Did he tell you to stay away from us?”

“I can make up my own mind,” Elain declared, refusing to be cowed by them. “Lucien isn’t my master.”

Cadmus grinned. “Then tell us the truth—do we owe you our protection or not?”